


The Treasure of Horde Prime

by CountDorku



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Treasure Planet Fusion, Family, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Muppet References, Murder, Orphans, Space Pirates, Taverns, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountDorku/pseuds/CountDorku
Summary: When Frosta finds herself in possession of a treasure map, she and her guardian Bow must set sail across the stars with Captain Glimmer aboard theSword of Protection, pursuing the lost treasure of Horde Prime - the most fearsome pirate king to sail the stars, who disappeared without trace twenty years ago!However, the crew they've hired for theSwordmay not be entirely trustworthy...
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Bow & Frosta (She-Ra), Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra & Frosta (She-Ra), Frosta & Imp (She-Ra), Glimmer & Micah (She-Ra), Hordak & Imp (She-Ra)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	1. All Aboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a message is delivered, an inn is destroyed and a ship is chartered and launched.

“Shiver me timbers, shiver me soul! Yo-ho, heave ho! There are men whose hearts be as black as coal! Yo-ho, heave ho!”

Frosta Leighton rolled her eyes. At least the Admiral Seahawk inn was more or less empty at midmorning, so the big man’s attempt at a sea shanty wouldn’t be driving away any paying customers. It was also empty for most of the rest of the day and night. Business was bad.

Captain Grizzlor (although Frosta had some doubts about the title’s legitimacy) was a tall, powerfully built man, typically clad in a black coat over a burgundy shirt; all his garments had seen better days, or possibly weeks. His shaggy mane of brown hair hadn’t seen a comb in some time, and his beard was similarly unkempt.

Ale slopped over the edge of the tankard as Frosta plonked it unceremoniously on the table within his reach.

“Thank ye kindly, lass,” said Grizzlor. “Ye haven’t seen a woman in a mask, have ye?”

Frosta mentally counted to ten and breathed out. “Not since you last asked me fifteen minutes ago, no.”

“Good. Ye can’t be too careful.” Grizzlor drained the tankard in a single motion – not a _smooth_ motion, not considering the number he’d already had, but still just the one. He raised his voice again:

“As they sailed their ship ‘cross the ocean blue, a bloodthirsty captain an’ his cutthroat crew-”

Frosta shook her head as she headed off to take care of some other chore that didn’t require being near Grizzlor. While the big man had paid them well in advance for his stay, he was also short-tempered and paranoid, and just as a bonus he also smelled pretty bad.

Washing dishes wasn’t exactly fun, but at least it didn’t smell like Grizzlor.

* * *

The wind whipped through Frosta’s short blue hair, and the sun glinted on the sail of her solar surfer as she skimmed it along the railing. You technically weren’t supposed to operate these things until you were fifteen, but Frosta had always thought that rule was kind of stupid, and you obviously weren’t obliged to follow rules if they were kind of stupid.

She could still remember her dad taking her out on his surfer, back before…Back before. Sure, he’d kept it gentle, nothing like the wild moves she was pulling (sparks flew as the surfer scraped along one of the pipes at the old mining compound), but it had been a thing she’d had with her dad, just like the walks in the woods with her mom…and now it was just the chores at the Admiral Seahawk, day in, day out, because Bow didn’t have anyone else to take care of it, and without .

She blinked away tears – obviously something had gotten in under her goggles. Sirens wailed, and she cursed her inattention. This was going to take some fancy flying…

There!

The surfer slid into the opening in the long-defunct machinery like it had been designed to fit in there. She knew there was enough room in here to navigate, if she was careful, and there were enough exits that the cops couldn’t watch them all. She just needed to sit tight…

After what felt like too long, the cops withdrew, and she breathed out. Probably time to head back to the Admiral Seahawk.

* * *

Later that evening, she went to see Bow, her…guardian, she guessed, was the best term. He’d just gotten back from shoving Grizzlor into his bed to sleep off the night’s drinking, in preparation for the next morning’s drinking.

“Hey there, Frosta,” he said. “Are you doing OK? I noticed your surfer was out for a bit.” His tone got a little bit harder. “And I heard sirens.”

“I needed to get away from this dump,” she said coolly. “Why did you ever choose running a hole-in-the-wall tavern as your life’s work instead of literally anything else?”

“This is a good line of work, Frosta! It’s stable, it’s honest-”

“It’s boring!” snapped Frosta. Her shoulders sagged, and some of the edge left her tone. “I don’t wanna spend my life washing the dishes and bringing booze to a soak like Grizzlor, Bow. I wanna go out there and have adventures. Like my mom did. Join the Navy, or sail on a pirate ship, or…”

Bow adopted his most conciliatory expression. “I’m sure you will! But not yet, OK? Give it a few years. You’re already getting really good at engineering, right? You built that surfer yourself! As soon as you’re old enough, I’ll bet any ship would be glad to take you on. But they’re not going to hire an eleven-year-old.”

“I’m nearly twelve,” she said curtly.

“They don’t really hire twelve-year-olds for anything good either, Frosta. I’m sorry.” He paused for a moment. “Oh, and Frosta…we’re running low on fruit. Could you pick some up from the market, tomorrow morning, please? I’ll leave some money in the kitchen, and you can keep the change, as usual.”

“Sure,” said Frosta bitterly. “I’ll just set off on my noble quest to Redretta’s fruit stand. Maybe I’ll bravely face a dangerous skitlet or something.”

“Frosta…”

“Save it, Bow. I’m going to bed.”

* * *

“Hey. Kid.”

Frosta, straining under the weight of a large bag of various fruits, blinked dully at the speaker: a tall, green-skinned woman in a red coat, four tentacles trailing behind her, one eye replaced by a glinting cybernetic and a sheathed force cutlass at her side. The crowd at the markets was giving her quite a wide berth.

“You work at that inn, right? The Admiral Seahawk?”

Frosta nodded.

“I think an old friend of mine is staying there. Name of Grizzlor.” She reached into one of her pockets and withdrew an envelope and a pentagonal silver coin. The moon embossed on the back glinted in the light of the suns. “Here’s five lunes. Take this letter to him, would ya?”

Frosta eyed the woman suspiciously. Five lunes was a lot for such a small errand…

“Look, kid, do you want the money or not?”

Still, five lunes in her pocket was at least a decent bonus for the trip. She nodded, and the letter and coin were pressed into her hands.

“Great. See you round, kid.” Humming quietly to herself, the green-skinned woman turned and disappeared into the crowd.

After a few moments, Frosta realised the tune the woman was humming was the same one that Grizzlor had been singing.

* * *

Fruit safely deposited in the kitchen, Frosta knocked on Grizzlor’s door.

“All right, jus’ a minute, jus’ a minute…” Grizzlor sounded like he’d been trying to cure his hangover with booze in an ill-advised bid to kick the can down the road for another day. The room smelled absolutely rank, too, even with the door closed. Not for the first time, she wondered why Bow hadn’t just kicked the drunk out and maybe improved their ability to find customers; it wasn’t like Grizzlor had any of that original money left anyway.

The door swung open just a little, and Grizzlor’s bleary, bloodshot eyes squinted through the crack. “Lass? What is it ye be wantin’?”

“Ran into someone at the markets who said she knew you. She asked me to give you this.” Frosta held out the letter, unopened; while she’d obviously been curious, she hadn’t been curious enough to go digging.

“Ye’d best give it here, then.” Without waiting for a reply, Grizzlor snatched the letter from her hand and shut the door. From the thud moments afterwards, he had decided to take a nap first.

She shrugged. She wasn’t paid enough for this crap anyway. She turned and made for the stairs, heading for any other job.

* * *

For a change, Grizzlor had stayed in his room for most of the day, so the inn’s atmosphere was a bit less unpleasant – apart from the faint snoring. The faintest blush of suns-set was lighting the sky as Frosta set up the tables-

A sound closer to a roar than a shout issued from Grizzlor’s room, and Frosta, driven by instinct, made a beeline for the stairs. The stench hit her like a physical force as she pushed open the door, and she cursed her impulse to help.

Grizzlor was slumped at the room’s small desk, a piece of paper – evidently the letter – resting on it. It looked like it had been torn from some book; from the words Frosta could make out, the book in question was aimed rather older than she was. (She could feel a blush beginning to form.)

The notable part, however, wasn’t the words; it was the pictures. Picture, rather. A symbol, drawn in a reddish-brown ink – actually, from the coppery smell, that was probably dried blood.

A pair of batlike wings, spread wide, their inner line forming a dark parody of a heart.

“The Red Wings.” Grizzlor sounded completely sober, for once. “They’ve found me now, lass. Who gave ye this?”

“Captain Grizzlor-”

“WHO GAVE YE THIS?!”

Frosta stepped backwards instinctively. Grizzlor had gone from terror to fury in a heartbeat. “Uh, green-skinned lady. One eye. Red coat. Tentacles.”

“Octavia, then.” Grizzlor controlled himself with a visible effort. “They’ll be here soon enough, lass. Take this.” His massive hand disappeared into a pocket, and Frosta found herself holding a giant key. “That be the key to my chest, over in the corner there. Take whatever ye needs, but make sure ye take the crystal! Be gone from here, as far as ye can, by nightfall; they won’t attack afore dusk.”

“I’ll need to check with Bow-”

“Then check with him! But hurry, lass – ye should not be here at nightfall! Not if ye value your life!”

* * *

Frosta was back five minutes later, Bow in tow. Grizzlor had moved away from the desk; he was sitting on his bed, cleaning guns that obviously had not received proper care and attention in some time.

“Captain,” he started, “what’s this about the Red Wings-” His eyes flicked to the desk. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed, matey,” grunted Grizzlor. “That mark were given to yer lovely ward not an hour ago, by a pirate who told her t’ pass it on t’ me. I’ve been marked fer death, sure as skulls.”

“Is it possible that it’s a hoax? Horde Prime hasn’t been reported in twenty years.”

“Prime is dead, but the evil that men do lives after them, an’ no man, livin’ or dead, did more evil than the Prime. I should know; I sailed with the blaggard.”

Bow could only manage, “You what.”

“I didn’ pop inta the world as a rum-raddled drunk, matey. Aye, I sailed with Prime, an’ the blood that stained his hands stains mine as well. I were hopin’ to simply drink meself to death peaceful-like, but it seems as I don’t get the choice. By fire, then.” He stabbed his thumb at the chest. “Take whatever ye like. Your fine establishment were always kind t’ old Grizzlor, an’ for that I owe ye. But be away, the sooner the better; there be countless scum among the stars, an’ what’s comin’ be nothin’ less than the worst of ‘em. A child would not be spared.”

Frosta stepped over to the chest, key in hand. The hinges creaked as it opened…

While Frosta had admittedly not had that much experience of high finance, being twelve and all, she’d absolutely never seen that many coins in one place. On top of the heap of money was a crystal, First One design if Frosta was any judge.

Bow’s lips were moving as he calculated. “We don’t need all this money. Just enough to clear your tab-”

“Take all of it!” snapped Grizzlor. “I can’t very well be taking it with me, now can I?”

Bow glared at him. “I like to think I’m an honest man, Captain, and I won’t take what I haven’t earned-”

“As o’ right now, I’m hirin’ ye to keep that there crystal outta the hands o’ Horde Prime’s old crew. Ye’ll earn every lune o’ it, matey. Now be off with ye! I’ll hold them off.”

His expression aghast, Bow said, “But you’ll die.”

“Doctor said me liver didn’t have much left in it, didn’t he? I may be dyin’, but I’ll not die like a rat. Though stained black an’ red me soul may be, I can at least shine a little light on it afore I’m judged.” He pointed to the door. “Go!”

Bow thought for a moment. “We’ll go to Edeltran’s place. He’s got some hidden alcoves we can use, and he owes me a favour.”

Frosta eyed him suspiciously and said, “How do you know he’s got hidden alcoves?”

“I’ll tell you later! Come on, we’ll take the carriage-”

Weapons discharges started to ring out.

“On second thoughts,” said Bow, surprisingly calm, “it might be better to head out the back way. Will your surfer hold two people?”

“Barely.”

There was a crash as the upstairs door burst open, and Bow grabbed her arm. “Barely will have to do! Come on!”

The only thing they paused to get was a package from one of the cupboards – a long, curved shape, wrapped in waterproof fabric.

* * *

Grizzlor’s gun skittered across the floor as Octavia kicked it away from him. The big man had put up a surprisingly ferocious fight, the bodies on the ground attested to that, but ultimately he was one man, unless you were counting by livers, in which case he probably only qualified as half a man at this point.

“All right, Grizzlor,” she said, grabbing the big man by his collar and hoisting him from his supine position by the bar. The bones of the inn shuddered as she slammed him into the building’s frame. “You’ve had your fun. Big shootout, very dramatic, blah blah blah. Now where’s the godsdamn map, flotsam face?”

“It’s away from ye, I’ll tell ye that much,” said Grizzlor, and bared his sharp teeth in a vicious grin – a gesture that would probably have been more intimidating if he still had all of them.

“I know you’ve hidden it around here somewhere, idiot. You wouldn’t let that kind of money slip out of your fingers.” Octavia flashed her own teeth right back at him. “Look, I’ll give you an offer. Tell me where it is and I’ll make sure it’s at least quick. You know that Prime’s policy was that anyone who robbed him would die by inches over several days, and the boss is kind of a traditionalist about that stuff, so really, I’d be doing you a favour.”

“Tempting, but it ain’t a favour I want,” Grizzlor said, smirking. “And I weren’t lying – the map ain’t here. You wanna know what is here, though?”

“A useless, washed-up old drunk?”

“Yeah. A useless, washed-up ol’ drunk. But one who rigged th’ generator to blow afore ye even got here.”

Octavia cursed loudly and dropped him. The communicator almost leaped into her hand as she bolted for the door. Thumbing the transmit button, she snarled, “This place is rigged! Scatter! Godsdamn scatter!”

* * *

From their hiding place in Edeltran’s house, Frosta watched the fireball climb into the air, and realised it meant Grizzlor was dead.

It didn’t feel quite real, not yet. Not in the way her father’s death did.

“Well, that’s that,” said Bow. He’d carefully not answered any of Frosta’s questions about how he knew Edeltran was a smuggler. “So much for the Admiral Seahawk, I guess.” He patted the chest. “And from the looks of it, there’s not much of value in here – enough cash to keep us going for a while, but not enough to rebuild, let alone restock. That crystal’s probably the only thing in here of actual value – assuming we can figure out what it does, anyway.”

Frosta lifted the crystal and eyed it speculatively. “Maybe there’s a button on it somewhere. Hang on.” She rubbed the crystal-

She nearly dropped it as it flared to life, the First One circuitry within glowing with a deep indigo light that spread through the crystal. Within moments, it was projecting a star map – and one with a specific planet picked out in gold. It was a long way from anywhere Frosta could recognise, and was near a few different worrying-looking celestial features.

Bow studied it, his expression thoughtful. “From the looks of it, this planet is important – at least to Grizzlor and whoever’s chasing him, so whatever’s there must be valuable. And assuming Grizzlor wasn’t full of it, it probably has some connection to Horde Prime…”

“It’s a treasure map,” breathed Frosta. “The lost treasure of Horde Prime.” She perked up. “We should go get it! With that kind of money, you could build the best inn in the sector!”

“I told your mother I would keep you safe!

“So what’s the plan? Poke around here mopping floors for chump change? Come _on_ , Bow – where’s your sense of adventure?”

“It’s about eight notches below my sense of responsibility.” He sighed. “But I know you well enough to know that if I say no, you’re going to try something anyway.” Frosta didn’t even bother trying to look innocent. “Okay. For this expedition, we’re going to need a ship, a crew, and a captain. I don’t know about a ship, and I don’t know about a crew – although we have enough stuff here to hire a few. But I know a captain – and I know she’s trustworthy.”

* * *

She was only a head taller than Frosta, her features were soft and rounded, and her tricorn was awkwardly perched atop an asymmetrical bob in bright candy hues – but her eyes glinted like amethysts, and her light blue coat and purple-pink shirt were both immaculate.

Her eyes warmed instantly as she saw them, standing at the corner near the docks, and a smile spread across her face. “Bow, you old devil! I thought you were putting down roots somewhere.”

“I was,” he said ruefully. “There were complications. But before we get to those, this is Frosta Leighton – she’s…”

“Glacia’s daughter, I know.” A shadow flitted across her expression; Frosta knew it had to mean something significant, but she had no idea what.

Bow shifted himself closer to Frosta’s height. “Frosta, this is Captain Glimmer Fukuhara. We served together on the _Brightmoon_.”

Frosta scowled. “ _Bow_ was in the Navy?”

“He could’ve been a _captain_ in the Navy if he’d stayed with it, but he had his fill of it after the war.”

“Wouldn’t that have been a disaster? Captain Scribner.” His expression was rueful. “Anyway, I recall you didn’t stay much longer.

“Not now, Bow,” she said, in warning tones.

Bow gave an awkward, extremely fake cough and said, “Anyway, Glimmer, things got…interesting. We may have a lead on something unique. Frosta, why don’t you show her?”

Frosta reached into her backpack, and the crystal glinted in the sun as she withdrew it. Glimmer’s eyes widened. “A First One star map? Those are…I mean, I saw one in a museum once. Where did you get this?”

“Is there somewhere a bit more private around here?” Bow asked. “We’d prefer this stay…you know, secret.”

Glimmer’s mouth tightened, and she said, “I have a study at a nearby inn. Come on.”

* * *

“And you think this is the hiding place of Horde Prime’s treasure?” said Glimmer, doubt and interest warring in her voice.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it seems to be the logical conclusion,” said Bow. “You don’t lay siege to an inn to get Horde Prime’s favourite back scratcher.”

“You weren’t this sarcastic with the Navy, Bow. Did you hang out too much with Mermista or something?”

Bow looked down. “I haven’t seen…I suppose she’d be Captain Lovell by now…in some time. Been too busy with the business…and looking after Frosta.”

“Of course.” A wicked grin appeared on Glimmer’s face. “I assume you’re planning an expedition?”

“Against my better judgment, yes. Would you be willing to help us…Captain Fukuhara?”

Glimmer rubbed her chin and said, “That depends. Would you be coming along…Lieutenant Scribner?”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on Frosta, or she’ll set the ship on fire.”

“Hey!” This was from Frosta. “That only happened once!”

Bow fried in Glimmer’s stare. “I’ll explain later,” he managed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Glimmer said, and nodded. “All right, Bow; I’m in. Let’s go find this lost treasure of yours. What resources do you have?”

Bow told her, and her expression darkened. Her lips moved a few times, and then her mood lightened again.

“It’s gonna be a bit slipshod, but I think we can do it,” she said. “I have a bit set aside that I’m willing to put into this. I know the _Sword of Protection_ is available, and it shouldn’t be too expensive to crew…”

* * *

A shiver earthed itself along Frosta’s spine as the next prospective crewmember swept into their makeshift hiring tent, and Grizzlor’s words echoed in her head: _Ye haven’t seen a woman in a mask, have ye?_

The woman in question was clad in a red mask and a long burgundy dress, her void-black hair flowing down her back like poison down a dagger’s blade. Frosta wasn’t in the main room with her – she was behind the tent, keeping an eye on things through a hole in it – but the woman’s presence was just really unnerving somehow.

Glimmer, her expression studiously bored, looked up from the paperwork and asked, “And you are?”

“You may call me Weaver Toussaint.” The woman’s alto voice had a much more cultured accent than, say, Grizzlor had – far from what you’d expect from someone looking for work on such a ramshackle voyage. “My wards and I are at your service.”

“Wards?”

“Two of them, both girls. Adora could be of great help to you; past captains have told me she’s got the makings of an officer. As for Catra, well, she can cook and clean, and she knows at least some of the ropes.”

Glimmer eyed her suspiciously. “And you?”

“I’ve served on more than one ship as a surgeon, captain. I doubt you’ll have one yet; I’ve seen most of the local ship’s doctors, and they’re barely fit to cut bread.”

“We’ll think it over,” said Glimmer, her tone still bored. “Thank you for coming. Please send in the next applicant on your way out.”

* * *

“Well, we have a crew,” said Glimmer drily, the day’s business concluded. “Some of them might even be able to pour sand out of a boot, if you put the instructions on the bottom.”

“Toussaint seemed smart enough,” said Bow, “even if she’s also the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What about the skull-faced guy we made a lieutenant – no, yeah, you’re right, she was definitely worse.” Her eyes twinkled at him. “Her wards weren’t bad looking, though, and they looked almost our ages…”

“Glimmer, no,” Bow said firmly. “I do not need you to start setting me up on dates again. Particularly with people we just hired.”

“Okay, fine,” she said dismissively. “Pity ships and supplies are so expensive; we might have been able to outfit a proper trip instead of whatever the hell this is.” She looked at Frosta. “Also, we’ll need a reason to bring a child onboard. Something that keeps her safe.”

“I’m not a _child_ ,” said Frosta, traces of a whine creeping into her voice. “I’m nearly twelve!”

Glimmer thought for a moment. “Cabin worker. You said she’d been helping run your inn, so she has the skills-”

“No!” Glimmer flinched backwards at Frosta’s outburst. “I am _not_ going to go on a voyage just to do more dirty dishes-”

“Hold on, Frosta. This isn’t just a menial position.” Glimmer’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “You’re also going to be my spy. I don’t trust this crew, so I need someone to keep an eye on them. That’s gonna be your job.”

“So I’m not _really_ a cabin worker,” said Frosta, turning the thought over in her head. “I’m _going undercover_ as a cabin worker.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s it exactly. I’m afraid you’re still gonna have to clean dishes, swab decks, all that dumb stuff, but you’ll also need to keep your ear to the ground. If it looks like anything suspicious is going down – mutiny, murder, theft, that kind of thing – I want you to tell me about it so we can take care of it. Think you can do that?”

“I won’t let you down, captain!” said Frosta, delivering her best salute.

“I know you won’t. Now go get some sleep; we sail in the morning!”

* * *

As soon as Frosta was out of earshot, Bow turned to Glimmer and asked, “Okay, how did you do that?”

“I made it interesting,” said Glimmer smugly. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out yourself; you spent _how long_ keeping me from doing anything stupid back in the Navy?”

“Not enough time, apparently,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t even think of that. I was just trying so hard to settle down I just…forgot about it.”

After a few moments of silence, Glimmer said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t be giving you stick for this. I know you weren’t expecting to end up looking after a child, especially so soon.”

“I won’t lie, she’s…a bit of a handful.” A wicked grin spread across Bow’s features. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to look after her when this is done? You’re the swashbuckling captain. You know how she thinks. She’s way more likely to listen to you than boring old me.”

“You’re not _boring_ , Bow. And I don’t think I’m ready for kids-” She finally registered his expression. “Oh, you.”

* * *

Frosta stood at the railing and watched as the crew began to board.

The first one, she could easily recognise as Hordak Johns: tall, with a slim but powerful build, Hordak would have stood out from the crowd even without his unusual appearance. Blood-red eyes glared out of deep pits of darkness; with his stark white face and visible fangs, it gave him the impression of some kind of monster. On his shoulder was what Frosta could only describe as a chimera, a strange mixture of bat and baby. (From the pause when he’d been asked, “Johns” was a pseudonym, but then, from the looks of this lot, if she wanted their real names, she should be consulting a bounty board somewhere.)

Not far behind him was Weaver, her mask glinting oddly in the light of the dawns. Flanking her were, Frosta assumed, her wards: a tall, blonde and muscular human, and a catlike alien, her skin covered in a layer of brown fur, mismatched eyes – one gold, one blue – glaring from under a wild mane of dark hair.

Others loomed into view: some human, some otherwise, many with scars, prosthetics, eyepatches, or other signs of hard living. There was no uniform, and little in the way of obvious discipline: they jockeyed for position, squabbled with each other, fought for space.

It was not, all told, a sight to inspire confidence.

* * *

“You.”

Adora turned around to see the ship’s captain – Fukuhara, that was her name – looking at her. She delivered her best salute; if this was going to work. “Me, Captain?”

“What’s your name, sailor?”

“Adora Carrero, ma’am.”

“All right,” said Fukuhara, and nodded. A kid – maybe twelve years old, with blue hair – stepped out from behind her. “Carrero, this is Frosta Leighton, the new cabin worker. Take her to the galley and get her set up. Then get back up here; we’ll be casting off soon, and that’s all hands apart from galley crew.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Adora, her mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. “Come on, Frosta.”

As they headed to the galley, one thought kept coming up in her mind, again and again:

_Nobody mentioned kids._

* * *

The galley was a surprisingly spacious one, with barrels of fruit and vegetables at the front of the stores, crates of preserves further back. Standing at the bench, cutting up a purp like it had done her some personal disservice, was the cat alien with mismatched eyes that Frosta had seen boarding earlier. The alien’s scowl softened, just a bit, as she saw who had intruded on her domain.

“Hey, Adora,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “Let me guess: you found a stowaway and you’re wondering how best to add her to the food reserves. I recommend drying and salting her, unless we plan to eat her quickly.”

“Very funny, Catra. This is Frosta; she’s the new cabin worker, so that means you’re her boss now. Frosta, this is Catra Michalka, the cook.”

“Great,” said Catra sarcastically. “The only thing better than doing the scutwork is being told people aren’t confident in your scutwork and you need an assistant.”

Adora’s forehead wrinkled; not for the first time, Frosta wondered how she’d ended up with such a large one. “I thought you would’ve been happy to not have to do all of it yourself.”

“I’m complicated, Adora, I thought you’d figured that out by now.” She turned to Frosta. “All right, junior, let’s get a look at you. Hmm, bit on the scrawny side, not very tender…it’s no use, she’s not gonna cook up nice at all. Guess she’ll have to work instead.” Frosta shot her a glare. “That’s fair, I’d rather be cooked too.”

“Captain wants galley work underway as we cast off,” said Adora, seemingly no more alert to Frosta’s dejected look than Glimmer had been. “You’ve got it in hand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Catra shot back, her tone flippant. “Go buckle some swashes or whatever it is you do.”

Adora nodded to Catra and exited the galley at a brisk jog, apparently eager to get on with the work. Catra smirked at Frosta. “So, Scutwork 101. This here is called ‘cooking,’ it’s the art of turning ingredients into slop-”

“I’ve done a lot of this stuff before,” Frosta said sullenly. “Cleaning, carrying, all that stuff. I was working at an inn before this.”

“An inn, all right. Bit young for a good barmaid, but good experience. Why aren’t you still there?”

“It, uh, burned down.” _Nailed it._ “Had to find something else, and I’d heard this stuff was character-building-”

“You ended up on this tub because you didn’t have anywhere else to go,” said Catra sardonically. “Nobody _ever_ uses the phrase ‘character-building’ unironically.”

“Yeah.” Frosta looked down. “Got anything that’d take me up on deck? I’ve never seen a ship launching from aboard it before.”

“You heard what the boss said, we’d better get started cooking the slop-” She caught Frosta’s expression. “Actually, y’know what, I can get started without you. Go watch the launch.”

“Really?” gasped Frosta.

“Kid. Frosta.” Catra knelt down, putting her eyes level with Frosta’s, and laid a gentle hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder. She took a deep breath. “Beat it before I change my mind.”

* * *

Frosta found a convenient spot, nestled by the railings near the bow, and settled down to watch the launch. The crew may have been mismatched and undisciplined, but they knew their trade; the sails were set quickly and efficiently.

Glimmer’s voice rang out like a bell, “Engage artificial gravity!” and Frosta’s stomach lurched, then settled. She’d heard that grav generators made you a little nauseous when they came online; luckily, it didn’t look like she’d be starting the voyage with motion sickness.

“You there.” Frosta shivered at the sound of that voice; it was deep, cold and emotionless. Its owner wasn’t shouting, exactly, but his voice cut through the din like an icicle anyway. “Get that sail squared away correctly.”

“Yes, Hordak,” came the grovelling tones of whoever he’d been calling out, and one of the sails shifted.

Now it was Glimmer giving orders again. “Master Bow, full speed ahead. As soon as we’re clear of the planetary gravity well, I want us on heading four-one-three by six-one-two.”

“Four-one-three by six-one-two, aye-aye. Going up!”

Frosta suddenly remembered a passage from an old book on starfaring superstitions she’d read once. Some sailors liked to throw a coin overboard, a tribute to the void, to ensure safe travels and a profitable journey. Frosta didn’t want the journey to be _that_ safe, but hey, why not? She dug in her pockets and found a pentagonal five-lune piece – almost certainly the one Octavia had given her to deliver that message to Grizzlor.

With a mental shrug, she cast it over the side. It glinted like a distant comet for a few seconds, then disappeared from sight as the ship slipped free of the surly bonds of gravity and set off in search of the treasure of Horde Prime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is gonna be a lot shorter than Starways.
> 
> As ever, if you enjoyed this, I encourage you to check out the work of my friends Athetos144, Say_Anything, curiousscientistkae and EtherianFrigatebird, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the adventure!


	2. Full Speed Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a child and a cook form bonds, a ship is threatened, a murder is committed and a conspiracy is revealed.

“Kid!”

Frosta snapped out of the reverie of space and turned to see a smirking Catra standing nearby, her jacket draped over her shoulder, a mop and bucket in her hands.

“All right, kid, you’ve had your fun.” Frosta instinctively caught the mop as Catra tossed it to her. “I hate mopping, so with the power vested in me, I’m declaring it’s your job.”

“Thanks,” said Frosta sourly.

“I’m not an _entirely_ unreasonable overlord.” Catra’s eyes twinkled in the starlight. “I’m also letting you have the bucket.”

* * *

The officers’ lounge, such as it was, only had room for a few people, but that was okay – only a few people were in it. Hordak, the lieutenant the crew seemed most loyal to, had declined to attend, leaving Glimmer, Bow and Weaver. Somehow, Weaver had managed to position herself so that she could sip brandy beneath her mask, without exposing any of her skin to the others.

“The little girl came aboard with you, didn’t she?” asked Weaver, swirling the brandy in her glass. “You seem a little young to be her father…and there’s not much of a family resemblance.”

Bow studied his own drink; he was consuming it a lot slower than Weaver was. “I’m not her father, no. I was a friend of her parents, so when they passed, I had to look after her. Her mother was called away on business, and her ship was lost; her father caught the Grey Death not long afterwards.” He sighed. “I still miss them.”

“These are cruel times,” said Weaver, her tone a poisoned mockery of sympathy. “Both of my wards were orphaned, too; pirates, you know.”

Glimmer rose abruptly, drained her glass in one swig, and put it down on the table. “Wow, look at the time. I should go check on the rigging.” With that, she was gone.

Bow could tell that one of Weaver’s eyebrows was raised behind her mask as she said, “A touchy subject?”

“Glimmer has a bit of a thing about pirates. I’m sure you understand that I can’t tell you why.”

“Of course.” Weaver rose, her mask falling back into place beneath her do-rag, and poured herself another brandy. “It wouldn’t do to be rude. She trusts you, after all, and trust is precious.”

Bow finished his glass. “It’s been a busy day. I’m going to get some shut-eye.”

“Wise indeed. I think I shall finish this drink and do likewise.”

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Bow shuddered. Something about Weaver just made his skin crawl; if he’d spent much longer in there, it could easily have made a break for it, possibly stolen a jollyboat and headed for the nearest planet.

As he stepped onto the deck, he heard voices raised, and instinctively moved towards them, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. He cursed; his weapon of choice was hidden in Glimmer’s safe, not strapped to his back like it had been in the old days. Still, he had his fists, and he’d managed to keep at least a bit in shape. He could throw a punch if necessary.

He headed around the pile of crates and barrels on the deck, moving towards the voices.

* * *

Frosta felt the pressure on her spine and cursed her inability to shut up as the hulking green figure shoved her against the mast.

“Perhaps little girls should be more careful where they pry,” slurped Leech, through concentric rings of razor-edged fangs.

“And perhaps big slime monsters should have private conversations in _private_ ,” Frosta shot back. “Stop oozing on my clothes.”

This was, Frosta’s common sense had to admit, not the smartest of ideas. Leech was big, and he was ugly, and he smelled. A lot. And oozed. And those rings of teeth were preying on her mind.

“Hey, Leech,” came a familiar voice, and that horrible lamprey-like mouth – tiny, black eyes glinting around it – swung away from Frosta. Frosta’s eyes unwillingly followed Leech’s motions, and saw Catra standing there, smirking, one hand behind her back. Leech’s cohorts backed away slightly.

“Now look, Leech. I know, I know, you just can’t go a day without doing something stupid, but I don’t think killing the new cabin worker is gonna accomplish much. For one thing, I wouldn’t have anyone to clean up the mess, so I’d have to do it.” She grinned. “Also, the captain would probably throw you overboard, but the real tragedy would be that extra work I’d have to put in.”

“What do you want, cat?” gurgled Leech.

“Me? Oh, I was just coming to get my assistant.” From behind her back, Catra produced a piece of blue-tinted meat, covered in white powder. “I wanted to teach her how to salt a voidfish. Don’t worry, though; I know you have…dietary issues with salt.” Catra’s fangs glinted in a way that sent a primordial shiver up Frosta’s lightly bruised spine. “I’ll make sure there’s something else prepared for you.”

Leech tore his eyes from the voidfish steak and slowly, reluctantly lowered Frosta to the ground. “Just spooking the kid,” he said, in the tone of one who doesn’t care if you believe them or not. “Get back to your…ssssalting.”

As Leech and his audience scuttled off, Catra rounded on Frosta. “Gotta hand it to you, kid, I didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to pick a fight with Leech on day one. You got a death wish or something?”

“I _didn’t_ ,” said Frosta plaintively. “He thought I was spying on him! I didn’t even hear what he was talking about!”

“Good,” said Catra absently.

“Why would that be good?”

“I mean it’s good you’re learning not to go close to him.” Catra’s eyes looked a little shifty to Frosta, but maybe that was normal for her species. “Leech is a weird one, so be careful around him. Now come on; we’ve got voidfish to salt.”

“Frosta!” They both swung around to see Bow approaching. “Are you all right? I heard voices-”

“I’m all right, yeah.” She fixed him with a glare. “No thanks to you. I believe we had work to do, Catra?”

She made for the galley, Catra in tow, leaving Bow standing out on the deck.

* * *

Leech let out a muffled, bubbling scream as Catra pressed the salted voidfish steak into his back. The storage room was fairly deep into the ship, but at least he was trying his best not to give anything away; that was at least one thing he was doing right.

“Leech,” Catra said, almost conversationally, “I knew you were an idiot, but I really didn’t imagine you were _that much_ of an idiot.”

“She was listening in!” Leech struggled to get the sentence out. “She could have ratted us out-”

“She didn’t hear anything, you _moron_ ,” Catra told him bluntly. “You nearly blew the whole thing because you _thought_ she _maybe_ heard you _discussing it in the open like an imbecile_. Is there _anything_ wherever you’re supposed to keep your brain? A bad cover-up is more obvious than the original crime!” She removed the steak, and Leech collapsed into a heap. “And doing a bad cover-up when you haven’t even done the original crime yet is unforgivably dumb. Was Hordak desperate, or something? Why else would he hire an idiot like you?”

“I hired an idiot like him,” rumbled a voice as deep and cold as an event horizon from behind her, “because he may be of use to us.”

“Idiot!” added a reedier version of the voice from about six inches to its left. “Idiot! Idiot!”

“Bit of a gamble, don’t you think, sir?” said Catra, injecting as much deference into her voice as she could without compromising the scorn. “I mean, the plan is to keep it secret until we’re ready to move, and I don’t rate our chances of keeping anything secret very highly while Slimo the Clown here is around to blow our cover.”

“You go too far, Catra.” Hordak’s expression put Catra in mind of an icicle, and Imp rocked backwards on his shoulder. “But you are correct that Leech’s antics have… _endangered_ our strategy.” The little goblin on his shoulder hopped over to Catra’s, and her eyes narrowed. “Catra, give me that steak, if you would.”

She shrugged and handed it to him.

Hordak reached down and picked up Leech by his own collar. Those red eyes narrowed in their deep pits, and Leech squirmed as if his various limbs were trying to disconnect; for all Catra knew, they were.

“Leech. You are not to kill _anyone_ unless I have _explicitly_ given you permission to do so. I will not have our one chance at the prize jeopardised by your bloodlust. Screw up again, and _this_ -” he shook the steak in Leech’s face “-will be the least of your concerns. Go.”

Leech scurried to the door, muttering dire imprecations.

Catra smirked at him. “Best be careful, Leech. You know what’s at stake.”

As Catra turned to leave, Hordak held an arm in front of her; his muscles felt like an iron bar as she walked into the limb. “Not so fast, Catra. Be careful not to form any…unnecessary attachments to the child.”

“I won’t,” she hissed. “I’m buddying up to the kid to keep the captain quiet. No other reason.”

Hordak studied her like an entomologist being asked to identify a common cockroach. “Very well, Catra. Just remember where your loyalties lie.”

As Catra left, her keen ears picked up what almost sounded like a faint cough. Must have been Imp.

* * *

“Steak!”

Frosta looked up from swabbing the deck to see the bat-baby creature sitting on the railing, its curse-yellow eyes drilling into her.

“Oh, hey. You’re Hordak’s gremlin, aren’t you? Was there something you wanted?” she said, perhaps a bit ungraciously; those eyes were beginning to put her on edge.

“Gremlin,” said the creature, nodding thoughtfully, as if it was trying out the word for future use. Then, in a single swift motion, it plucked her bucket from the deck and fled, tipping the water out as it did so.

Frosta bit back a curse and tried to give chase; several more curses joined it in reluctant suppression as she tried to make it through the puddle without falling over or falling too behind. Her quarry disappeared down the stairs into the ship’s interior.

She thought she heard a cupboard door slam as she reached the galley. _There_ it was.

“Gremlin…” said Frosta softly as her eyes flicked around the galley, looking for any sign of the creature. One of the higher cupboards looked a little bit ajar…

As Frosta reached up to open the cupboard, the doors burst open and the goblin leaped through them with a banshee shriek, bucket sitting on its head like a poorly made crash helmet. Frosta screamed – more from shock than fear – and collapsed backwards into a heap. As the goblin fluttered off, the stress and exhaustion and frustration all came bubbling to the surface, and hating every moment of it, Frosta burst into tears.

After a few moments, she felt a tapping on her wrist, and she opened her eyes to the blurry sight of an embarrassed-looking, yellow-eyed goblin. After a moment, it took off the bucket and put it next to her. Then, as she eyed it suspiciously, it bounced into a barrel, emerged with a purp, and pressed it into her hand, muttering “Gremlin, gremlin,” over and over as it did so.

“All right,” said Frosta sourly, wiping away the tears with her sleeve. “I guess I accept your apology. Now I gotta get back to work, okay?” She took a bite out of the purp as she rose and headed to the supplies for more water.

On the way, she bumped into Catra, who was carrying a sack of something over one shoulder. Those blue and gold eyes narrowed as Catra studied the unlikely pair. “I see you’ve met Imp.”

“It’s a good name,” said Frosta drily. “Little gremlin thought it’d be funny to steal my bucket.”

“Yeah, he does that. Doesn’t often try to make up with people, though.” Imp fried in Catra’s gaze for a few moments. “Guess he must like you.”

“Hadn’t you noticed? I’m a very likeable person.”

* * *

It was several days into the trip, and in the small room Adora and Catra had managed to find as a place to hide from Weaver, the tension could have been cut with a claw.

Adora demanded, “Are you really okay with this? She’s just a kid!”

“It’s _the job_ , Adora. You know that we can’t afford to insist that everything be all squeaky clean all the time! How would Weaver react? You know how she hates it when you try and come over all holier-than-thou!”

“This is _wrong_ , Catra. Fighting adults, that’s…necessary sometimes, but kids…”

“Don’t you _dare_ go soft on me, Adora,” snarled Catra. “We’re going to get the job done, and we’re going to collect our cut from Hordak, and you’re not gonna do anything to mess this up for us.”

“ _I’m_ going soft?” snapped Adora. After a moment, she seemingly remembered they were trying to keep it quiet and moved to a strangled whisper. “What about you? I’ve seen you with Frosta! Admit it – you’re starting to like her!”

“Am not!” Catra jabbed a claw-tipped finger into Adora’s sternum. “I’m trying to cosy up to the kid. The captain knows her, maybe she can keep us covered.”

“Sure,” said Adora, scepticism written in every line of her face.

“Shut up, Adora. Don’t screw this up for us. This could be our way out! Never have to worry about Hordak or Leech or Weaver again! We’d be rich, and we could get out of here. Get our own ship. Be free at last.”

“Maybe,” said Adora. “But would we be free of what we did?”

“The hell kind of talk is that?”

“Never mind, Catra. You’d never understand it anyway.”

Adora shoved past her friend and headed for the observation deck. Catra shook her head. The blonde was going to sulk for a while, and then she’d hopefully get over this. “Just a kid.” She’d been “just a kid” once, and all that had gotten her was Weaver.

She turned and made for the galley. She’d left Frosta cleaning the pots and pans, and while it was a big job, she needed to be on hand when it was finished – make sure the kid was too tired to go prying. Someone could get hurt, prying on a ship like this.

She barged past a cluster of particularly unpleasant-looking specimens, but a sudden pressure on her wrist told her that someone had taken exception.

“Catra,” oozed Weaver, shifting in behind her. “I trust you were not responsible for Adora’s current malaise?”

Catra snatched her wrist from Weaver’s grip. “If you’re worried about Adora’s mental state, _you_ go talk to her about it.”

“I have.” Poison dripped from her guardian’s voice. “And now I want to know what role you played in her current-”

“I didn’t do anything!” snapped Catra. “I’ve been telling her to stay the course and get this done! If she’s not keeping it together, don’t blame it on me!”

Storm clouds roiled in Weaver’s eyes. “I will not be thwarted by your folly, Catra! You _owe_ me-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Catra said dismissively. “I owe you a huge cut of all my pay and all that. Look, if Adora is turning into a wuss, that’s between _you_ and _her_. Now _shove off_. I have work to do – unless you’re volunteering to eat raw food tonight?”

Without waiting for an answer, Catra stormed off towards the galley.

* * *

Frosta dozed in the middle of the galley, slumped over a spotless pot. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, the shine of spotless pots and pans twinkled in her eyes, only to be cut off as the fog banks of slumber descended once more. There was motion, at one point, but the fog refused to lift.

When she woke up properly, she found Catra’s coat draped over her like a security blanket, and Imp had muscled the pot out of her hands and curled up in its place. The little gremlin was curiously warm.

* * *

Arcs of lightning writhed against the red-tinted clouds of the Kowl Nebula like big, fat worms, and the ship rocked alarmingly.

“I haven’t seen a plasma storm come up this quickly in years!” shouted Glimmer, putting as much force into her voice as she could to get through the din.

Bow tightened the life-saving rope around his waist. “I knew we should’ve stuck to the regular lanes!”

“Well, we’re here now!” shot back Glimmer. She turned to the smallest member of the crew – apart from Imp, at least, who had gone into hiding somewhere in the galley. “Frosta, keep an eye on the lines! If any of them get loose, get someone to tighten them!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” said Frosta, and ripped off her best salute. It wasn’t great, but then, she was twelve. Rope trailing behind her, she leaped down off the command deck, making for the primary mast.

Glimmer grabbed for the speaking horn and barked, “All hands, secure the sails! These gusts could rip them clean off!”

“Ma’am!” A sailor ran up to Glimmer; after a moment, Glimmer realised it was Adora. “I steer pretty well. I can handle the wheel if you want to concentrate on the systems.”

After a moment, Glimmer nodded. “Do it.” She stepped back, and Adora seized the wheel, tense muscles showing through her sleeves. A part of Glimmer wished she had more time to study that – it had been A While since she’d last had a date – but at the moment her attention was needed for making sure they didn’t all die.

From behind them, there was a loud noise, and some of the displays began to flash red. Glimmer cursed. “We’ve lost the rear sail!”

“Compensating!” yelled Adora. “I’ll hold us as steady as I can!”

* * *

Weaver darted through the sailors to the rear mast, where Catra lay sprawled, one arm jutting out from under a fallen spar.

“I should have known you would be the first to be wounded, Catra,” oozed Weaver’s voice as she leaned in to study the injury

“Weaver…” said Catra weakly.

“What is it, my child?”

“You’re…really…” Catra’s “wounded” arm slipped out from under the fallen cross-beam with the slick ease of a bar of soap; her teeth gritted as a few tufts of her short fur were yanked out. “Gullible.”

“Catra, what is the meaning of-”

“I’m sick of you condescending to me, I’m sick of never being good enough, and I’m sick of you _taking so much of my loot!_ ” Uncannily steady on the rocking deck, Catra lifted Weaver off her feet. “I’m not your pawn, Weaver. I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn again.”

“Ungrateful pup!” snarled Weaver. “I spared your life. I made you strong. You _owe_ me-”

“All I owe you,” spat Catra, “is payback.”

Catra’s claw slashed through Weaver’s line. The ship bucked beneath their feet, and with the slightest motion, Catra threw the older woman overboard.

Catra couldn’t take her eyes off Weaver as she disappeared into the nebula clouds.

“That was for my mother,” she muttered, and turned away.

* * *

“We’ve got wounded!” yelled Bow. “Where’s Weaver?” He zeroed in on Catra. “She went to help you not too long ago; did you see where she went-”

“She’s gone!”

 _Her line wasn’t secured._ An easy, straightforward lie. Frosta would get a talking-to, but no harm done to anyone but Weaver.

“Her line…snapped,” Catra found herself saying. “I couldn’t catch her in time. I know some first aid, I’ll do what I can!”

Bow used a word that not long ago he would have told Frosta off for saying. He reached over to a nearby crate, the bonds holding it down straining under the pressure, and wrenched off one of the planks. “Get me some rope, then! We can use these for splints!”

* * *

Up on the command deck, Adora stood, a sheen of sweat on her brow glinting in the storm-light. The only motion was her arms and eyes as she spun the wheel left, then right, riding the cosmic eddies.

The ship shifted awkwardly, and more of the sensor displays flared to life; nothing on them was positive. Before the ship’s prow, the nebula clouds were darkening and twisting, like pouring void-black ink into a whirlpool.

“Maelstrom rift,” said Glimmer and Adora in unison.

Adora hauled the wheel to one side, her teeth gritted. “I’ll try and take us around it!”

“No time!” Glimmer pointed ahead; the nebula clouds were beginning to glow in an unsettling fashion. “The plasma storm is intensifying! We have to get out of here right now, or we’re toast!”

“I’m not sailing us through a maelstrom rift! If we spend too long in the gravity flux, it’ll rip the ship apart! We don’t have the speed, and without a power source we can’t do a full burn without ending up dead in space!”

“Power!” Glimmer snapped her fingers. “That’s it! If I can get some extra speed out of this tub, could you get us past the rift?”

Adora lifted her hands off the wheel for a moment, as if she was planning to check something on her fingers; after a second of grim realisation, she renewed her grip. “Probably! But where are you planning to get the power?”

“I’m gonna steal it from the plasma storm!” Glimmer said, and a cocky grin split her face. “Solar sails are energy converters; we can use the lightning to run the engine hot for a little while without burning our fuel reserves too much!”

“That’s…” Adora boggled at her for a moment. “That’s crazy!”

“Sometimes crazy works!” Glimmer grabbed the speaking horn again. “Release the sails! Repair crews to all capacitors – this is gonna be a big one!”

Lightning carved a jagged path into the sails, and the cables running along the masts pulsed with a charge they’d never been designed to handle. On the displays surrounding Glimmer, needle after needle crept towards its own red zone.

“Here goes nothing…” said Glimmer, reaching for the velocity controls. “Ready?”

“No, but-”

“Too bad!” Glimmer wrenched the engines to maximum, and the sudden thrust kicked her in the chest. Adora’s ponytail was streaming out behind her head, and the back of the ship burned like a newborn star.

Adora was moving as if in a trance, her eyes locked to the maelstrom rift, spinning the wheel this way and that. If they had even a second’s delay at the wrong point, the ship would shatter like an eggshell. The hull readouts shifted down, further, closer and closer to zero…

The _Sword of Protection_ burst through the nebula cloud in a shower of sparks, sails ragged, hull battered and burned, pulling a trail of mist and fire in its wake.

Glimmer inched the velocity controls back to a more reasonable amount and started to breathe again. She hadn’t even realised she’d been holding it. Reaching for the speaking horn, she said, “All right! Well done, everyone. I’m authorising extra rum for everyone tonight; I think we all deserve it after that. Tomorrow, we’ll break out the supplies and get this thing running at full capacity again.” Letting go, she patted Adora on the shoulder. “We couldn’t have done that without you. You did good.”

“Really?” Adora looked amazingly happy for such a minor compliment.

“Really.” Glimmer favoured the steerswoman with a grin; she’d earned it. “If I’m ever looking for crew again, you’re top of the list. I know people who passed the Academy with top marks who couldn’t have pulled that off.”

Footsteps echoed, and she turned to see Bow, his face drawn. “Is everyone okay?”

“Almost everyone. Some burns, sprains, a few broken bones…and one casualty.”

* * *

“Catra?”

Catra, hunched over in the darkness, glared at the doorway. Her golden eye glinted in the dim light; her blue eye was concealed behind a bandage, the skin and fur around it flash-burned by a capacitor overloading.

“Buzz off, kid,” she said as Frosta let herself in. “Let me mope in peace.”

“I didn’t think you should be alone,” Frosta told her. “I know when I lost my mom-”

“ _Weaver_ ,” hissed Catra, “was _not_ my _mother_.”

“I know. But she was kind of _like_ a mom.”

“In the same way that a dead rat is kind of _like_ a pet.” Catra’s claws dug into the wall, and her free hand clenched into a fist. “Weaver never loved me. Nothing I did was good enough for her, and she made that absolutely clear every chance she got. All I was to her was a meal ticket.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“No,” snapped Catra. “I don’t care that she’s dead. I’m just in a bad mood.”

“You don’t sound like you don’t care.” Frosta sat down. “You sound like you wanted a better relationship, and she didn’t care.”

“You’re wrong. Shut up.” Catra’s voice trembled a little as she added, “You don’t get anything. You’re just a kid.”

There was a long pause, and then Frosta said, “Do you remember your mom at all – not just Weaver?”

“A little.” Catra didn’t even realise she’d said the words until they’d escaped. “Just a few moments. A lullaby. Nothing important.”

Impulsively, Frosta hugged her. “For what it’s worth…I think she’d be proud of you.”

Catra didn’t say anything. But she didn’t shake off the girl either.

* * *

The sound of glad-to-be-alive carousing dimmed behind Glimmer as she moved closer to the bow. With the _Sword of Protection_ ’s gravity anchor deployed, and the crew busy, it was a great opportunity to go stargazing, and the bow of a ship gave the best view of the void ahead.

“Oh! Did you want to sit here?” Adora began to pick herself up. “I’ll get going-”

“No, no, there’s no need,” said Glimmer, holding up one hand to stop her. “You were here first.”

“But you’re the captain! If you want me to go-”

“There’s room for more than one person here, Adora. Just relax. I’ll sit over here.”

After a few minutes of sitting and staring, Glimmer said, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I gave the order to take us through the nebula. It was my call. I’m the reason Weaver is dead.” Glimmer slumped forwards. “I know she was your guardian. So…I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Glimmer looked over; Adora was similarly slumped. “I should have steered more carefully. She wouldn’t have gone overboard if I hadn’t put so much stress on her line.”

“Adora, no! Your steering saved the ship. I’m the one who put it in danger to save time. You can’t blame yourself.”

There was a pause. Then Glimmer said, “I was expecting you to be with the rest of them around the rum rations. Not fond of drowning your sorrows?”

“I’ve never liked being around too many people,” said Adora, and leaned back. “Particularly people who’ve been drinking. It’s just…exhausting. I prefer to come out here and just…look at the stars. Life with Weaver could be chaotic, and they’re…always there for me, even if they’re not always the same ones.” She shook her head. “This probably sounds stupid-”

“Not at all.” Glimmer pointed out into the void. “I’ve been grounded for too long. I miss being able to come out here and just watch the stars. It’s like…”

“Like it’s home,” finished Adora.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence.

* * *

The world before them gleamed in the light of its primary, but Frosta didn’t have time to dwell on it. It was beautiful, certainly – a precious gemstone shining in the void, its rings offset to form an X.

However, it was going to be a while before they could get going, and if she didn’t finish this work, she was going to get hassled over it. Which meant that she was going to need to get her brush back.

“Come on, Imp,” she said, in a tone of voice that would be immediately recognisable to any pet owner. “Frosta needs the brush to clean, okay? So give it back, and-”

“Brush!” shrieked the gremlin in her voice. “Brush! Brush!” Tiny wings fluttered as he made for the galley.

“All right then, you little goblin,” she said pugnaciously, and gave chase.

She caught up with Imp in the galley. Hordak’s pet had deposited the brush on one of the benches, and was chewing on a raw, salt-preserved voidfish steak with every sign of enjoyment. Frosta’s stomach twisted in revulsion; you needed to cook salted voidfish steak pretty carefully if you didn’t want it to taste like salt-crusted feet.

“Okay, Imp. You enjoy snacking, okay?” she said, and reached for the brush…

Wet, dripping footsteps slapped on the stairs, and Frosta bit back some words that Bow would not have been happy to learn she knew. That sounded like Leech, and Catra wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Weeks of enduring the slime monster’s baleful glares meant she didn’t want to

After a moment’s thought, she dived into one of the barrels. It was full of purps, nearly ripe; she was going to need to put some extra work into cleaning her clothes later if she didn’t want to smell like a harvest.

More footsteps followed Leech – lots more footsteps. She pressed her eye to a hole in the barrel to see…

…what looked like most of the crew. Some sixth sense told her to stay here and keep quiet.

The assorted misfits and monsters shifted into positions around the room – sitting on chairs and tables, leaning against walls – and Hordak stepped into the centre. It was impossible to mistake him for anything but the boss.

“We are finally at our destination,” rumbled the skull-faced man, “but this is no time to get sloppy. We bide our time until the fools locate the treasure; then we strike. I will signal the time to act by ringing the ship’s bell. Surprise is critical; ensure _none_ learn of our intent.”

As Hordak spoke, Leech’s fist idly reached into the barrel. Thinking quickly, Frosta lifted a purp, and the slime-covered hand plucked it from her grip and withdrew.

Hordak pointed into the crowd. “Adora. Catra. You have been in close contact with the captain and the child. Do they suspect us?”

Frosta’s heart sank as Adora and Catra stepped out of the crowd. Catra’s blue eye glinted in the galley light; Adora seemed unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

“The captain doesn’t know anything,” said Adora. “As far as she’s concerned, we’re just the usual hired guns.”

“Kid’s been too busy working to pry,” added Catra. She smirked at Leech. “Told you killing her would have been premature.”

Leech shot back, his voice a low gurgle, “I still say you’re too soft on the little pest, Catra.”

“And I still say you’re stupid-”

“ENOUGH!” boomed Hordak. “Get back to your stations and await my signal. And remember, each of you will receive a more than generous cut when we claim Horde Prime’s treasure; if you jeopardise the plan, rest assured that if your fellow mutineers do not kill you for putting their payoff at risk, I will do it myself.”

As Catra moved towards the exit, she turned, her eyes suspicious, and Frosta’s heart leaped into her throat. As Frosta watched, Catra’s nose twitched.

“Do you smell something, Catra?” asked Hordak in a withering tone.

“Thought I smelled the kid for a moment, but…she spends a lotta time in here. Place probably just picked up her scent from that.”

“Very well.” Hordak’s voice wasn’t warming up. “Remember: wait for the sound of the bell. Now move; we do not have much time.”

Hordak was the last to leave. As the feet of the others faded into the distance, he paused. A violent cough wracked his towering frame, and Imp leaped off his perch, landing on his master’s shoulder, the shreds of his steak held in one hand.

Hordak drew himself up. Idly, one hand ruffled the goblin’s hair.

“Well,” said Imp, in Hordak’s voice.

“No, Imp. I am not.” The deck trembled as Hordak marched out of the galley.

As Frosta drew herself out of the barrel, Adora rounded the corner. The moment she saw Frosta, her pistol leaped into her hand, almost instinctively.

Adora’s voice was eerily without emotion as she said, “…You were in that barrel for the entire meeting, weren’t you.”

“Yeah.” Defiantly, she added, “I suppose you’re gonna kill me now, huh?”

Adora looked at the gun in her hands. It shook, just a little. “Those are my orders, yeah.”

“Then do it.” Frosta glared at her. “If you don’t, I’ll tell the captain.”

“I know you will,” said Adora, steadying the weapon. Frosta looked into its single black eye; it felt like staring down death.

Then the weapon clattered against the deck.

“No.” It was as if the colour was flowing from Adora’s knuckles to her face, since the former were going white as her fists clenched, while the latter was dyeing itself a furious red. “I’m not going to kill a child for money.”

“I’m hardly a-” said Frosta before her brain caught up with events. “What are you saying?”

“We’re going to the captain.” Adora’s voice wasn’t very loud, but to Frosta, it rang out like a clarion call. “I’m done with this. I’m done with _all_ of this. If Hordak wants Horde Prime’s treasure, then he can get it himself.”

* * *

Not five minutes later, Catra’s nose wrinkled as she returned to the galley. The smell was wrong. There hadn’t been this much sweat during the meeting, nobody in the crew could know that as well as she did. There was a lot of Frosta-smell _here_ where there hadn’t been before, and…

And Adora’s pistol, lying on the ground, cocked but abandoned.

Catra scooped up the gun and said the worst words she knew. Shifting the safety back on, she slipped the weapon into her pocket.

Bursting out of the galley, she almost crashed into Leech. The oozing horror was draining the last of the juice from a purp, the wine-dark liquid staining his nightmarish maw.

“Leech! Go tell Hordak we’ve been made. We need to start this mutiny _now!_ ”

“What-”

“Get on with it or I’ll salt you and serve you up for dinner tomorrow!” She pointed. “Hordak. Mutiny. _Now._ ”

* * *

As the bell started to ring, Adora grabbed Frosta’s wrist and broke into a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and as ever, if you enjoyed this, check out stuff by my friends Athetos144, Say_Anything, curiousscientistkae and EtherianFrigatebird!


	3. Broadside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a castaway is found, an ultimatum is delivered, and a battle is joined.

“You’re certain?” demanded Glimmer as she opened the locked cupboard. Inside were guns, force cutlasses, the curved package Bow had brought from the inn, and a small cloth bag that Frosta knew held the treasure map.

“Weaver, Catra and I were part of Hordak’s crew for a little while,” Adora told the captain, her voice bleak. She withdrew a cutlass from the hooks and tested its balance. “Since Horde Prime disappeared, Hordak’s been chasing that map. We sank two ships chasing it before Hordak got a tip-off about Grizzlor.”

Glimmer fixed Adora with eyes like amethysts and said, “I knew some of these scum were pirates, but I never dreamed you might be one of them.”

“It’s not like they gave me a choice!” snapped Adora. “Weaver took me in as a baby – I’m pretty sure that she murdered my parents! I never-”

“HEY!”

They both blinked in unison and looked down at Frosta.

“Argue on your own time! They’re coming for us!”

After a moment, Glimmer nodded. “You’re right, Frosta. Adora. We _will_ finish this discussion later. But let’s get going.”

Bow reached in and slid the wrap off his package. Inside was a plasma bow, gleaming a dull gold. “I hoped I wouldn’t need this again.”

* * *

Minutes later, the jolly-boat carved through the void, the _Sword_ ’s laser cannons burning through the darkness.

“Hang on, everybody!” yelled Adora, wrenching the rudder to one side. A beam of incandescent death slashed through the space they had just shifted out of.

The jolly-boat was like a larger, sturdier version of Frosta’s solar surfer. A small, comparatively nimble target, that mobility was about the only thing keeping them from being shot out of the sky by the much larger, much better-armed _Sword of Protection_.

Bow loosed a shot from his namesake weapon and used a word that he’d repeatedly forbidden Frosta from saying. “I should have kept this thing better charged! It’s running on fumes!”

The planet loomed large in front of them, growing larger by the second. Once on the ground, they could find some kind of shelter-

Crimson fire sheared off the jolly-boat’s rear thruster, and screams rang out as the jolly-boat began its descent.

Adora wrestled with the controls as the displays transformed, one by one, into catastrophic error messages. “I’ll try and use the solar sail for aerobraking! It’s gonna be a rough landing!”

* * *

It was a rough landing.

The jolly-boat came to a halt in a sprawling jungle region, the hull torn to shreds by the rocky ground.

Frosta picked herself up, groaning as she felt the bruises. Bow was in a similar state – battered, but all his extremities seemed to be working.

When they regrouped, Adora was definitely favouring one arm, and Glimmer seemed to be limping. When Bow moved forward to support her, she tried to shake him off, but her leg gave way; Bow had to dive in to catch her.

“I’ll take her,” Adora offered. “I’m stronger than you are; we’ll make better time, and we should probably get away from this wreck before anyone comes looking.”

Glimmer’s eyes blazed as she said, “I refuse to rely on a pirate-”

“Glimmer!” snapped Bow. “Adora’s risking her life to help us!” His voice softened. “It’s not her _fault_ , Glimmer. She couldn’t have been older than you were when…”

“Don’t-” She slumped forward, the anger visibly leaving her body. “You’re right. Adora, I’m…I’m sorry.” She hooked an arm around Adora’s shoulder; the blonde stood, a muscle twitching in her jaw the only sign that she was having any trouble with the added weight.

Frosta weighed the pistol she’d been given in her hands. It was quite a bulky one, and she could tell that she’d need both hands to fire it. She fixed Bow with a look. “I’ll have a look around. There’s gotta be something other than trees.”

“Frosta, no,” said Bow. “I’ll go-”

“You stay here and look after the captain and Adora! I’m a better climber than you anyway.”

“Can’t argue with that, I guess.” Bow’s breath hissed out between his teeth. “But _be careful_ , okay?”

“Don’t worry,” said Frosta, and disappeared into the greenery.

* * *

Frosta grunted as she caught the branch. Before she’d started using her solar surfer, she’d been a champion at climbing things she wasn’t supposed to climb – trees, buildings and the like. She’d grown a bit since then, but

A deep, unfamiliar voice rang out, “I know you’re there! Come down, and don’t make any sudden moves!”

The speaker was a man – a human man, specifically, his bare, tanned torso covered in muscle and scars. His beard and hair were surprisingly well-kept; both had once been black, but were now shot through with streaks of grey. Frosta suppressed a wince as she realised the largest mark was a laser burn, covered over in scar tissue – one that he’d been lucky to survive. Something about his face was familiar, but Frosta couldn’t put her finger on why. He was also holding a carbine, which appeared as battered but functional as its master.

It didn’t look like she had any options. She swung down under the branch and dropped to the ground.

“A child?” gasped the stranger, before lifting his weapon again. “Who are you, and what business have you here?”

“I’m Frosta. Me and my friends crash-landed not far away, and we needed to scout-”

“So that was real?” Frosta gave him an odd look. “Sorry. It’s…I’ve been here for so long. I haven’t seen my daughter since she was a baby, and she’d be at least your age by now.” He took a closer look. “No, never mind. Wrong hair.”

“Right…Look, I’m sorry you’ve had a rough time, but I need to get back to scouting.”

“All right, well, if you wouldn’t mind visiting, there’s a stockade just outside the jungle where I’d hang my hat, if I still had one. Feel free to drop in!”

“Thanks-” Frosta did a double-take. “Wait. You have shelter? My friends…”

“They’d be the ones making all that noise?” The stranger nodded. “There should be room for them, yes. Come on, we’ll get them on the way!”

* * *

The shelter was a rough construction of stone and polymer, apparently a slapped-together stockade. The outer wall was sagging alarmingly in a few places.

“So this is home, sweet home!” said the stranger. “I’m afraid I don’t have much food, I kind of got into the habit of catching my own.” A lizard skittered along the wall; his hand lashed out and snatched it. “But one of you can have this, if you’d like! It tastes a little like chicken. Everything does after long enough, honestly.”

Adora started to go green.

A cloud shifted, and the afternoon sun cut through the window, illuminating the stranger’s features. Frosta suddenly realised why the man looked so familiar: something about his face was a lot like the captain’s. Not _identical_ – the captain’s face was more rounded, while the stranger’s face had the look of too few meals – but visibly similar.

Bow had clearly noticed it, too. “Where are my manners?” he said in that way he did when he was trying to be subtle. “We’re taking advantage of your hospitality and we haven’t even asked your name. I’m Bow.”

“Micah.”

Glimmer tried to leap to her feet, visibly wincing as her ankle took the impact. Her eyes were as cold as the void and her voice was like death as she said, “You’re lying.”

“What?” The man’s jaw actually dropped. “It’s my name!”

“My father,” Glimmer snapped, “died when I was very young! Pirates attacked his ship!”

“Your fa…” Micah’s eyes widened. “Glimmer?”

“How do you…oh my gods.” Tears were glistening in Glimmer’s eyes. “You really are…”

“Your father.” Micah pulled her into a tight embrace. “How long have I been gone?”

“Twenty years,” whispered Glimmer. “What happened?”

A shadow passed over Micah’s face. “Horde Prime. He took some of us prisoner – we were basically slaves. I tried to escape – so many times – but I was caught every time. He brought us here, forced us to carry his loot…and he turned his guns on us and his crew. It was a miracle that I survived. I woke up in the jungle, and it took me months to recover my memory. I dread to think how much damage Horde Prime has done since then.”

“Uh…none, actually,” said Bow. “He disappeared. Not long after you did, actually-”

Before he could say anything else, the door slammed.

* * *

Bow found Frosta sitting outside the room, a sullen look on her face, a trickle of tears running down her face.

“Hey. Frosta.” There was a second seat next to her, so Bow sat down. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said glumly. “I just…it hit a little close to home, you know?”

“I can guess.” He reached out an arm and pulled her into a hug. “You don’t find it hopeful?”

“I don’t _wanna_ hope, Bow. I don’t wanna think that my mom might still be out there. Because even if she is, what are the odds that I’ll ever see her again? It’s a big universe, and we’re stuck here without a ship.”

“It’s not just that, is it?” His own expression darkened noticeably. “It’s Catra-”

“I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Sure. Just…I’m here if you do need to talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

A rumble of engines sounded overhead, and Bow looked up to see a jolly-boat descending.

“Looks like they found us,” he said, voice bitter as grawlixfruit, and rapped on the door with the knuckles of his free hand. “Hate to interrupt the family reunion, but we’ve got company!”

* * *

Catra pounced off the jolly-boat before it had landed properly, her knees complaining slightly as they absorbed the shock of landing. Hordak had given her a white flag to mark the parlay; she’d agitated for levelling the stockade from above, but Hordak had been too concerned about damage to the crystal.

She raised the flag and shouted, “Hey! I’m here to parlay! Send out one speaker and they won’t be harmed.”

After a few minutes, during which time, presumably, they debated their choice of envoy, a door opened and Bow stepped out, his weapon gleaming dully in the twilight.

Catra raised her hands, the very picture of injured innocence. “Coming armed to a parlay? What a stain on your honour!”

“At least I have honour to stain,” Bow shot back, and Catra grinned. He intended to make a fight of it, then. Good.

“Oh, touché, lieutenant!” she said mockingly. “Is your honour willing to accept a trade? Because if you give us that First One crystal, we’ll spare you, even leave you some supplies. Think about it. You can’t fight us all, and you especially can’t fight the _Sword_. Hordak gave me until morning to get your answer, so…”

“Why do you _need_ it? We’re already on the planet.”

“Yeah, I dunno if you’ve noticed, Lieutenant, but planets are pretty big things. We could spend months here looking without finding Horde Prime’s stash. We need the crystal; you need to not be murdered. Think about it.”

“You’d kill a child that easily?” said Bow, aghast.

“It’s only Hordak’s generosity that’s keeping you alive!” snapped Catra, her mirth dissipating instantly. “You turned my best friend against me somehow. So go ahead, arrow boy – keep pushing me.”

His expression troubled, Bow said, “I’ll discuss your offer with the others.”

“You do that.”

* * *

The mood was sombre in the stockade.

Adora scowled as she shifted her left arm, which was wrapped in an improvised sling. “If we need to make a fight of it, I’m not going to be _that_ much help.”

“If they bring in the ship, none of us are going to be that much help,” pointed out Bow. “I don’t think any of us have anything that can stop a cannon blast or punch a hole in the hull.”

“And if we could take out the ship,” threw in Glimmer, “we’d be stuck here, and I’m not a fan of that – no offence, Dad.”

“None taken.” Micah thought for a moment. “This stockade has a back way out – there’s a secret passage. We could just sneak out.”

“We’d lose the advantage of cover, though,” said Adora. “It won’t protect us much against the cannons, but it’ll be easier to hold out here against the crew.”

“That’s it!” said Glimmer, a confident smile appearing on her face. “We just need to take out the ship. It’s probably only got a skeleton crew.”

“That’s a safe bet, yeah,” Adora said with a nod. “Almost anyone who didn’t come down here with orders would probably be heading down just to look for the treasure. And Catra…” Her expression darkened. “Catra came down in a jolly-boat. We could get up to the _Sword_ in it.”

Bow stepped forward. “I’ll go when it’s dark. Hit them when they don’t expect it, while they’re not expecting anything. They won’t expect us to take the initiative.”

“I’m coming too.” All eyes swung downwards as Frosta rose to her feet. “Glimmer can’t go; she can barely walk. Adora can’t go; she’s only got one arm. Micah’s been here for twenty years; it’ll take him a while to adjust to the ship. And you shouldn’t go alone.” Frosta stuck her chest out bullishly. “I’m going with you.”

Bow’s jaw dropped. “Frosta, no! It’s too dangerous-”

“Because staying down here is _so_ much safer.”

After a few moments, Bow chuckled ruefully. “Every time I say something is too dangerous, and you do it anyway, you do really well at it. All right. Trying to snare you in my apron strings isn’t working; let’s try it your way. Let’s go.”

Glimmer was staring at him, smiling slyly.

“What?” he said sourly.

“You were turning into my mother!” she said, a teasing note in her voice, earning a grimace from Bow.

“All right, all right…Okay, so I’ll take Frosta out sometime after it gets dark. We’ll head up to the ship, disable the guns. Then we’ll head back down and pick you guys up.”

* * *

Moving as silently as a whisper, Bow and Frosta crept past the slumbering pirates. Relief and concern warred in Frosta’s mind as she noticed that Leech wasn’t among them. Either he was with some other ground party, or he was still on the ship; no way to tell.

Catra had secured herself a prime napping position, stringing a hammock up between two trees. Frosta’s blood froze as she saw one of Catra’s ears twitch in the half-light…but she just shifted, and the sound of snoring got louder.

The pirate jolly-boat had been left with only one guard, a tall figure whose hat was awkwardly wedged over his single giant eye, and Bow’s now-charged plasma bow had a stun setting. It wasn’t even a fight; he was mid-yawn when the bolt hit.

Bow reached for a length of rope, then reconsidered. Frosta could see why; the pirate was pretty heavily built, and it wasn’t like they had anywhere to put him. Might as well just leave him there until they get back.

They ran the jolly-boat’s engine as quietly as possible as they headed up to the ship.

* * *

The jolly-boat came to a halt beside the hull, and Bow readied the grapnel. His first throw scraped along the hull and nearly hit Frosta as it fell, but the second hooked over the railings and locked into place. With a businesslike nod, Bow scurried up the rope, Frosta trailing afterwards.

On the deck, Bow turned to Frosta and whispered, “Okay, so the cannons should be down-”

“HEY! YOU!”

A shiver earthed itself along Frosta’s spine. She knew that voice.

Leech and another pirate – a hulking, green-scaled reptilian figure – leaped from the command deck, landing in front of them with a thud and a splat. Leech pointed at Bow and said, “Rogelio, you take that one. _This_ one-” (his rings of nightmarish teeth glinted menacingly in the starlight) “-is mine.”

Bow muttered a curse. After a moment, Frosta realised it was because he absolutely did not have a chance to draw his plasma bow, let alone use it.

“Run!” shouted Bow.

They ran.

* * *

Bow grunted as Rogelio tackled him, but Frosta couldn’t pay attention to that right now. She had other priorities. Leech was faster than he looked, and for all her bravado, Frosta was still nearly twelve. Out on the deck, she had no chance.

She probably knew the ship better than he did, though – all those hours swabbing the deck had to count for something.

The fore hatch leading below decks was open, so she dived through it, swinging a little bit on the edge of the opening. (Her fingers protested, but she didn’t have time to worry about that either, and the swing helped her get her feet into the right position.) A disgusting sound from behind her told her Leech had landed as well, so she bolted through the first door on her left, which led to the gun decks.

Leech was too close behind her, and the cannons too heavy, for her to believably spin one to shoot at him (it had been a nice dream but it definitely wasn’t gonna work), so she opted to lean on superior mobility. She pulled herself onto the first cannon, leaping out of the way as Leech dived at her – she landed on another cannon, finding her footing after a moment, while the first gun clattered out of alignment under the impact of Leech’s weight.

On the fourth cannon, she landed badly. Her feet slid out from underneath her, tipping her forward. Stumbling, she picked herself up and resumed her flight, Leech nipping at her heels. She bought a few seconds by slamming a door into Leech’s face, but it wasn’t going to delay him long. She needed somewhere to go…

She saw a door nearby and smiled. The galley. Her haunt for about half her time on the ship. If she couldn’t beat Leech in there, she couldn’t beat him anywhere. She plunged through the door, mentally cataloguing the stores: fruit, meat, salt…

Leech smashed open the door, obviously enraged beyond reason, and Frosta leaped behind the barrels. Wood splintered and metal tore as Leech brought his dripping fist down on the barrels, shattering them…

White powder flew, and a gurgling scream tore its way free of Leech’s throat as the salt poured onto his body. Frosta winced as she saw what the powder was doing; patches of his skin had lost their slimy sheen and now looked dull, almost leathery.

No time to have too much sympathy for the devil, though. She seized her opportunity and fled.

* * *

Bow ducked under Rogelio’s fist. He’d taken a few hits, and those areas were going to sting tomorrow, but the big pirate’s strikes were clumsy – he could avoid them, even if he couldn’t accomplish much with his bare hands.

Frosta burst onto the deck, followed by the battered, tattered figure of Leech. She screamed as the pirate grabbed her ankle-

“Frosta!”

Moving with a speed born from desperation, Bow dived under Rogelio’s arm, heading straight for Frosta. His weapon almost leaped into his hands, but Leech was too close to Frosta – he couldn’t get a clear shot…

Inspiration struck, and he fired a shot upwards. The energy bolt sheared through a rope, and the block scythed down like a comet, catching Leech smack bang in the face. Frosta broke free as the monstrous pirate staggered back-

A heavy weight caught Bow in the shoulder, and his plasma bow fell from his hands, echoing against the deck. Oh, right. Rogelio.

All of a sudden, Leech was in his face, and Rogelio was lifting him up off the deck.

“Well,” slobbered Leech, glaring into Bow’s eyes. Patches on the slime-covered pirate’s face were beginning to swell uncomfortably. “What did you think you would accomplish up here, _lieutenant_? You’re no match for us-”

“Let him go.”

Everyone’s eyes swivelled around, as if drawn by a magnet, as Frosta aimed the plasma bow. It was _definitely_ too big for her, but by bracing it against a couple of crates, she was able to keep it level as she drew.

“Let him go,” repeated Frosta, pointing 

“You always did think too highly of yourself, little girl,” said Leech -

Light blazed as the shot punched through Leech’s shoulder, and he gave possibly the most disgusting shriek Bow had ever heard. Rogelio dropped Bow in shock.

Moving quickly, Bow scooped up the plasma bow and shifted the ammo selector to “stun”. Another flare of light cut through the cosmic night, and Rogelio dropped like a poleaxed stoat.

Leech let out a grotesque war-cry and hurled himself at Bow. Bow frantically drew back the weapon, but years of neglect hadn’t done anything for its charge capacity, and no shot was forming.

Bow’s battered ribs complained vociferously as Leech slammed into him, and he went over the side of the ship. A desperate grab for the edge left him dangling over the edge; a clattering sound told Bow that his plasma bow was gone.

Oh, well. Bigger fish to fry right now.

Leech leered over the side of the boat at him, his beady black eyes glinting maliciously. “Have you ever wished upon a star, lieutenant? Now you get to be one-”

Wood splintered, and Leech toppled forward over the edge, plummeting past Bow. As Bow watched, the pirate vanished into the void.

Frosta’s head popped over the edge, followed by a length of rope. “Come on! I’ve tied this to the mizzenmast!”

“Thank you,” managed Bow, and grabbed the rope. His muscles protested as he pulled himself onto the deck. The area was strewn with fallen crates and barrels; from the looks of it, Frosta had managed to cut the tethers being used to lash down some of the supplies, and tipped the pile over onto Leech.

Frosta looked over the edge. “I’m sorry about your bow.”

“Don’t be,” said Bow, as she settled into the hug. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He patted her paternally on the shoulder. “Let’s get Rogelio tied up and see about getting this thing down to the planet.”

* * *

The stockade was dark as they emerged from the passageway into the courtyard.

“Guys?” said Bow in a stage whisper. “We brought the ship down-”

Eyes gleamed in the darkness – one gold, one blue – and Frosta’s blood ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, and a special thanks to Athetos144 for beta reading!


	4. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a treasure is found and lost, a ship is saved, a family is reunited and a future is foreseen.

Glimmer blinked muzzily at the world, waiting for her brain to get properly fired up. She felt…groggy, somehow, and the side of her head hurt.

A layer of pinkish blur in the midst of the blueish blur cohered into a face. A familiar one, too.

“Hi, Adora,” she slurred. “I was…real mad at you for something, but…” A thought occurred to her. “Did you always have those real pretty eyes? Suppose you must’ve, not like you could’ve bought them!” For some reason, this struck Glimmer as uproariously funny, and she started to laugh.

Adora’s face turned to one side, and through a faint ringing noise overlaid on the laughter, Glimmer heard her say, “Bow! I think she’s lost her mind!”

Glimmer’s perceptions, half dream, half reality, skimmed over Adora’s form. She seemed to be holding her arms behind her back for some reason, and…was that rope? Why was she wearing rope-

The other half of reality came crashing in, and Glimmer groaned as she realised she was also tied up. Through the faint blur – hopefully that wasn’t a concussion – she could see that they were on a jolly-boat, the hull of the _Sword of Protection_ rising beside them like a wooden cliff. While Bow and Frosta had been up claiming the _Sword_ , Catra had somehow gotten into the stockade and opened the door; Glimmer assumed she scaled the wall. They’d tried to fight, but with Adora’s arm out of commission and Glimmer unable to stand, they’d been easy prey; the pirates had knocked them out.

“Bring us up!” said Catra’s voice from behind her, and the _Sword_ began to go down – or, Glimmer realised belatedly, they were going up.

Hordak, Imp sitting proudly on his shoulder, was waiting on the deck of the _Sword_. As Glimmer watched, Catra cleared the gap between the jolly-boat and the ship with ease, producing the First One crystal with a detectable air of smugness.

“Here you are, captain,” she said, dropping it into his hands. “There’s the map.”

Hordak studied it with the air of a man being entrusted with a sacred relic. “At last. My father’s secrets.” His expression soured, and he shook the crystal in a surprisingly cartoonish display of frustration. “Have the prisoners brought aboard; I must interrogate them.”

* * *

Before long, the five of them – Glimmer, Bow, Adora, Frosta and Micah – had been tied to the mizzenmast. It wasn’t the most convenient fit.

“I’m sorry,” Glimmer whispered at Adora’s flinch. The pirates had been notably rough about it, and Glimmer knew her arm was pressed against Adora’s injured one – not that she could do anything about it right now.

Hordak loomed into view; he was good at looming. “Ah. Captain. It seems I require your assistance.” He produced the First One crystal. “Make this work.”

“Why should I?” Glimmer said truculently.

“If you don’t, I will kill the child.” Well _that_ had escalated quickly. “You live only as long as you are worth more alive than dead; your mother, the Admiral, will pay dearly for you.”

“You never said Angie made admiral-” managed Micah, but from the slap that sounded afterwards, some pirate had decided he shouldn’t keep talking.

“As I was saying,” grated Hordak, “your worth is enough to keep you alive – for now. Of your companions, none will prove so profitable; I will not hesitate to kill the child if it is the only way to ensure your compliance.”

“Then you’ll never get it to work,” she said, her voice sharp as a razor. “It’s only responded to Frosta so far.”

Hordak glared at her, his face unreadable, before he nodded to one of the pirates around him. “Cut the child loose and bring her with us. Leave these others here; we may find some use for them later.”

* * *

The First One crystal was less warm than Frosta had expected it would be. She’d have expected it to be heated, at least a little bit, from the time it had spent in Hordak’s fist; then again, she didn’t know what normal body temperature for his species was.”

“Why should I go along with this?” she snapped.

“Because,” rumbled Hordak, “you value the lives of your companions on the _Sword of Protection_. Your life is valuable to me, for now, and so it is preserved; the traitor or the stowaway are not thus protected.” He smiled at her, the kind of smile that shows teeth rather than cheer. “How many lives will you sacrifice for your defiance?”

“Fine.” Frosta rubbed the crystal, and the map of the stars appeared. After a few moments, it shifted, zooming in on the globe with the crossed rings. Light blazed and lifted into the air, forming a trail in the sky.

“Excellent.” Hordak pointed along the trail. “Follow that trail; have the _Sword_ follow our jolly-boat, at least where space permits.”

* * *

Aboard the _Sword_ , Adora groaned.

“What’s wrong?” asked the other three in unison.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I should have come clean, let you prepare. This is all my fault-”

“Adora, no,” said Glimmer. Some instinct told her to take Adora’s hand, although she overruled it; the closest arm to her was also the wounded one, and hurting the former pirate wasn’t going to help. “I’m the one who hired you and Hordak and Weaver and all of you. If I’d been more patient, hired a more reliable crew-”

“Hey, yeah,” said Bow, a teasing note creeping into his voice. “This _is_ your fault, Glimmer.”

“Hey!”

“Quiet, you lot!” barked a pirate.

* * *

The jolly-boat emerged from the jungle to find a chasm slashed into the surface of the planet. The trail stopped above it, the ribbons of light coiling around themselves in the sky.

“This cannot be it,” hissed Hordak. “There is nothing here.”

Catra thought for a moment. “Maybe they buried it?”

“Do not be preposterous.” Hordak’s reserve wasn’t entirely gone, but his good mood, such as it was, had dissipated; if you could put a plasma storm in a cage, it would have been Hordak’s twin at just that moment. He turned to Frosta, eyes burning like dying suns, and a tremor wracked his frame – anger, illness, Frosta couldn’t tell. “Make it work, or your friends will pay the price for your failure.”

“Okay, okay, I’m trying!” Frosta’s eyes flicked over the lightshow that was cutting through the night sky. Was there…yeah, there was a pattern! She pointed over the edge and said, “That rock outcropping there – the lights are pointing right at it!”

Hordak studied it, his mood lightening, just a trace. “Well observed, child.” Turning to Catra, who was sitting at the solar sail controls, he barked, “Take us down!”

* * *

On closer inspection, the rock outcropping was in fact the base of a cracked crystalline pillar, First One circuitry visible through its exterior – it had just been disguised by dirt and the deep of night.

Hordak stepped from the jolly-boat, his eyes burning holes in it. “There is a socket! Quickly, give me the crystal!”

It slid into the opening with a click, and the pillar flared to life. The glowing, spiralling trails in the sky blazed brighter, shifting into new configurations – entire new constellations of First One lights…

And then, in a flash of light so bright Frosta could actually _taste_ it, the sky above the chasm split open, revealing a blue-green world ringed by multiple moons. A star map flickered to life just above the pillar, one world picked out in gold among the countless blue sparks.

“At last,” breathed Hordak. “The portal device. Horde Prime’s greatest weapon.”

“Great,” Catra cut in, a violent edge of sarcasm in her tone. “We have a way of getting more loot. Where’s his original loot? That way we can get rich now, instead of in ten years.”

“You should have patience, Catra, for mine is not infinite.” Hordak stepped forward, visibly stumbling as he moved. His clawed hand passed through the map, and he grunted in obvious frustration. “Child. Come here.”

At the first sign of hesitation, Catra nudged her in the back. “Go on, Frosta.” There was an edge of bitterness in her voice as she said, “Much more of this and he’ll be taking you in as a pirate.”

“I don’t _want_ to be a pirate,” muttered Frosta, but she advanced on the star map anyway. She reached into the galaxy, pressing a highlighted dot – and the giant door in the sky changed, showing a field of wrecked ships, their cruciform outlines putting Frosta in mind of swords. Another press, and another world hung in front of them – an ice-white rock, lit by blue and gold moons; she remembered seeing it in some of her mother’s old photos – it was where she’d grown up. Another press, and it was back to the blue-green disc with the multiple moons.

A flicker of white caught her eye, and she realised one of the worlds shown in the star map was the one they were on – the one with the crossed rings. She reached out and touched it…

The shimmer of gold was almost blinding. The portal had opened onto a giant space, a First One ruin judging by the crystalline structures…which were jutting out of an endless sea of coins and gemstones.

The treasure of Horde Prime.

The pirates began to make their way towards the money – heading in in ones and twos at first, but more flowing in as the first pirates began grabbing cash without being instantly obliterated. As they flowed ahead, Hordak strode through the portal, Imp looking suspiciously from his shoulder.

Catra was the last to enter, dragging Frosta in her wake.

* * *

The gaping rift into more money than any person could possibly spend had notably unsettled the pirates. Several of them broke ranks and headed for the portal, with expressions like they’d seen heaven and intended to carry it home with them in a sack.

“Bow.”

Micah’s voice was a raspy whisper, but it looked like the pirates hadn’t heard it. “Micah? What’s the matter?”

“I think I have a knife in my pocket, but I can’t reach it. Could you try?”

“All right.” Bow’s hand shuffled into Micah’s pocket. “Yes! Yeah, it’s a knife.”

“Quickly, quickly! Cut the rope while they’re distracted!”

A few hushed moments later, Micah picked up an abandoned cudgel from the deck, tested the weight, and brought it down on a pirate’s head with tremendous force. As the man’s legs gave out, Micah tore his gun belt loose and slid it across the deck to Adora and Glimmer. Another pirate turned around, drawn by the noise, so Bow backhanded him across the face, then dropped him with a strike to the solar plexus.

The battle for the _Sword of Protection_ was on.

* * *

Adora and Glimmer managed to claw themselves into an upright position – Glimmer leaning against Adora and handling the gun.

“For what it’s worth,” said Glimmer, as she blasted the gun out of a pirate’s hands, “I’m sorry I was so hostile to you.”

“Nah, I understand.” Adora swung them around as Micah struck down the pirate they’d disarmed. “You thought pirates killed your father. I’m happy you came to trust me so quickly, honestly.”

“What can I say? You proved yourself.”

“I just batted my baby blues at you-”

“You’re really going to bring that up? I was concussed!”

“I don’t get flattered by beautiful women often, captain. Damn straight I’m gonna hang onto praise when I get it!”

“Guys,” said Bow loudly as he punched a pirate in the face, “can you save the flirting for _after_ we save the day?”

“Spoilsport,” chorused the two women.

Between the element of surprise and their available arsenal, it wasn’t long before the _Sword of Protection_ was theirs – at least temporarily. The last pirate standing – Rogelio, from the looks of him – put his hands up immediately; nice to see a quick learner.

“Okay,” said Glimmer, as Micah started tying up the survivors. “That’s the ship secured. Now how do we get Frosta to safety?”

“We’ll have to just do what we can. Keep Hordak from realising what’s going on.”

* * *

Within the treasure chamber, the pirates were stuffing their pockets. Only Hordak seemed to have other objectives; even Catra let go of her to start shoving money into a sack.

Hordak’s lack of focus on grabbing the money was weird, and weird meant suspicious. She pursued, as quietly as possible – not an easy task, given the coins scraping under her feet, but with all the noise of pirates undergoing an enriching experience, it wasn’t completely impossible either.

“No.”

She peeked out from behind a stack of coins to see a whole ship, the name _Fright Zone_ proudly emblazoned on its hull, a mutant skull painted on its sails – a thin-faced design with three eyes on one side. It was a sleek, predatory design, with smaller engines on outrigger pods for manoeuvrability. Atop the hull and strewn around the vehicle were white shapes…

A shiver crept down her spine as she realised those were skeletons. Most of them were slumped over, their bones half reduced to ash by what had obviously been a fierce laser gunfight.

One sat upright. It was clad in the remnants of a long black coat, the skull insignia painted on its hat – grimly prophetic, given that its wearer bore the same skull.

“No,” repeated Hordak, stumbling towards the ship as if drawn onwards by a powerful magnet. “No, this cannot be. How dare you. How dare-”

A green-tinted light blazed, and a figure took shape in midair – a wasp-slender but still somehow powerful form, closely resembling a less emaciated version of Hordak. From the three bright green eyes blazing on the right side of his face…

“Horde Prime,” said Hordak, his voice just a little above a whisper; Frosta barely caught it over the grinding sound of coins shifting.

The hologram began speaking, and all other sound died. “Dear brother. You finally made a bid for my hoard, did you? I had hoped the interlock in your DNA would prevent you from making use of the map, but it seems you have found some low-lives willing to assist you.”

“Brother-” managed Hordak, but the recording didn’t notice.

“You may rest assured that your temerity will be punished, brother.” The ground shook. “You see, this First One ruin was on the edge of self-destruction when I found it…and it will not long survive your intrusion.” Horde Prime’s smile was a knife, glittering with a cold, merciless sheen. “Farewell…brother.”

Parts of the crystal began to glow a deep, sinister red, and other parts began to crack, dissolving into powder and falling into the depths.

Someone screamed.

Frosta whipped her head around. Some of the piles of money were beginning to glow with an unnerving golden-white radiance – Frosta realised they were melting. That was probably not good. Realising the danger, she staggered away from the heap of gold she’d been standing near –

The ground gave way, taking her feet out from under her, and she smacked onto one of the few intact spires of crystalline material. There was nothing around she could possibly jump to, and she didn’t have any way out. She tried to pick herself up, but the spire was beginning to tilt, and she frantically grabbed at the edge, dangling there like a man overboard.

This was bad-

“Kid! FROSTA!”

Frosta caught a few brief impressions – wild blue and gold eyes, fast movement, a sack plummeting into the pooling molten metal – before Catra landed on the spire. The alien pulled Frosta up – her arm protested a little at Catra’s rough grip, but it was better than falling – and made another enormous leap, sinking the claws on her free hand into the hull of the _Fright Zone_.

Frosta grabbed at the railing and dragged herself aboard. With a speed born from panic, she grabbed the most durable-looking rope – twenty years had not been kind to the ship – and threw it over the edge to Catra. As she did so, she caught sight of Hordak – standing on his own crystal spire, right next to the ship, looking like a wind-up toy that had run out of power.

As Catra leaped over the railing, Frosta leaned over and yelled, “Hordak! Come on! I’ll throw you a rope!”

Catra looked at her like she was nuts and snarled, “You’d save him? He tried to kill you

Hordak cut her off. “No.” Somehow, even though he was barely raising his voice, it cut through the din of panicking pirates and collapsing architecture.

“You can’t stay here,” managed Frosta. “You’ll die!”

“I am already dying, child.” He strangled a cough. “I was forged from Horde Prime’s own flesh – but mine is flawed. It has been failing me for some time. Only a sample of his DNA could save me – but how am I to obtain a sample from dry and empty bones?” His powerful body visibly sagged. “I see no reason to wither in a cell for the last few years of my existence. I choose fire.” He raised his hand, and Imp leaped onto the raised fist. “Go with the child, Imp.”

“Hordak-” said Frosta and Imp in unison.

“GO!”

Imp landed on the railing, looking lost, as Catra kicked the controls and used possibly the worst word Frosta knew. “Damn it. It’s nearly out of juice. It’s not gonna get us far.”

“Only needs to get us to the exit! The _Sword_ should still be outside!”

“Right!” Catra delivered another strike to the console, and the engines flared to life – or at least a guttering near-life. “Full speed ahead, Captain Frosta?”

“Just get us out of here!”

* * *

The _Fright Zone_ burst from the portal, and thunder rolled. A storm had struck the area with incredible speed – possibly some side effect of the self-destructing First One ruin – and the sky was split with forks of lightning. It wasn’t raining, but the wind was beginning to pick up.

The _Fright Zone_ ’s hull began to crack as it barged past the trees and reached the _Sword of Protection_. Catra killed the engines, and it drifted to a halt just above and to the starboard of the _Sword_.

As Imp leaped across, tiny wings giving him a little bit of speed, Catra scooped up Frosta and threw her across the gap into Bow’s arms.

Bow enfolded her in his tightest hug yet. “I was so worried-”

“Worry later!” Catra told him as she landed next to him. “That First One complex is huge and it’s _all_ coming down. I want to be somewhere else when it gives way-”

The ground made a cracking, splintering sound, and Catra and Glimmer swore in unison.

“Never mind!” said Catra. “Get us off-planet!”

“We can’t!” shot back Adora. “We only have a skeleton crew – we’d never make it through the storm!”

“We can pick up the pirates – offer them immunity or something!”

“No, we can’t,” Glimmer told her. “A lot of them didn’t make it out, and the rest are tied up below decks. We don’t have the crew.”

Catra began reciting swear words in alphabetical order.

Frosta looked at the _Fright Zone_ , which was beginning to sag. “Bow! Catra! How quickly do you think we could put together a solar surfer?”

“Is this really the time?” shouted Adora.

“Just trust me! It’s gonna work!”

Catra and Bow looked at each other, then Catra shrugged. Clearing the gap between the two ships with a mighty leap, she braced herself against the outrigger engine and _pushed…_

It crashed to the deck of the _Sword of Protection_ , the damaged support strut no match for Catra, and Bow descended on it.

In moments, using a sail Catra had cut from the _Fright Zone_ and the pieces of some of the _Sword_ ’s cargo, they had a solar surfer built. It was rough and ready – extremely so, actually – but it only needed to manage a short flight.

“As soon as I go,” she told Bow, “get the _Sword_ moving towards the portal.”

“But the portal leads to the ruin-”

“We’ll get it underway!” snapped Catra. “Just go! I don’t want to die here!”

* * *

Frosta kicked the makeshift solar surfer off the ship and fired up the thruster. The ground was beginning to give way, lava boiling up from the gaps – that First One ruin must have gone down almost to the core of the planet.

She pointed the engine down to get some extra height – this hastily rigged setup didn’t have the antigravity of her old surfer – and headed for the pillar. With the collapsing ground, this was less of an even flight and more of a tunnel run – the path had rapidly become a crack carving through the ground.

The engine guttered and died. Biting back a curse, Frosta smacked it into the wall of the rapidly forming canyon. Again. It shuddered and – yes! The engine flared to life, and she pointed it almost straight down to get some extra height. The heat of the pooling magma was painful, even at this height.

There! Frosta leaped from the solar surfer, which disintegrated into scattered parts almost as soon as she left it, and landed on the small patch of land surrounding the crystal pillar. As the _Sword of Protection_ drew closer, ever closer, she stabbed a finger into the map-

Bow landed next to her with a thud, grabbing her and pulling her close. The rope around his shoulders went taut as the sky door changed…

The _Sword_ emerged from the portal moments before it closed, the First One machinery finally damaged beyond repair by the collapsing ruin. Before it sat an ice-white world, lit by two moons – one blue, one gold.

Now that Frosta thought about it, the moons reminded her of Catra’s eyes.

Bow lifted her over the railing and onto the deck, and Imp was at her side in moments, complaining inarticulately. Micah had the ship’s wheel; Glimmer and Adora were slumped against each other; and Catra was standing by the rail, smiling indulgently.

She reached a clawed hand out and ruffled Frosta’s hair. “You did good, kid.”

* * *

“I feel kind of bad for him,” said Frosta.

Bow looked at her. “Who – Hordak?”

“Yeah.” She studied the meal; she’d thrown it together quickly, Catra having been confined to the brig with the rest of the surviving mutineers. “All he wanted was a treatment for his illness, and all he got was death.”

“It’s a sad fate, yeah. But…” Bow thought for a moment and said, “If you took an injury to the heart, would it be fair to kill someone else for theirs?”

“I suppose not…”

“That was how Hordak dealt with it.” He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “It’s good that you have sympathy for him, but…he’d been looking for that map for twenty years. He could have done so much living in that time, if he hadn’t been so focused on finding a cure that he’d kill for it. Maybe he could have met someone nice and built a life in some town, or found something to do with his skills that wasn’t piracy – become a merchant sailor, or an explorer, or used his skills to protect ships, rather than scupper them. He could even have tried to find some other treatment for his condition.” He shrugged. “Instead, he chased a miracle cure for twenty years, and in the end, it destroyed him.”

Imp, eating from a food bowl at the end of the table, looked up and said, “Miracle.”

* * *

In the brig, Catra pulled a spare key out of some hidden pocket in her clothes and let herself out of the cell. Her looking out for Frosta had earned her a promise of leniency and a cell to herself, but she preferred not to leave that kind of thing up to chance. Luckily, she was next to the exit, and someone had been very diligent about oiling these hinges, so she was able to slip out without any of the remaining brigands realising she was gone. She also checked the other hidden pockets; not as much cash as she would have liked, but she had only had a few moments to hide stuff away.

She retrieved a pistol from a storage locker – no need to be stupid about this – and made for the jolly-boats. She was lucky; there was still one, and it was fuelled. She climbed into it and started the launch protocols.

“Catra.”

Catra whipped the pistol up, flicking the safety off, only to realise she was pointing it at Frosta. The girl had a whistle almost to her lips; one piercing noise, and this escape attempt was done.

“Put the whistle down, Frosta,” said Catra. “I’m getting out of here; don’t make me pull the trigger.”

Frosta looked down at her, expression steady, whistle at her lips. Catra knew the kid had guts, she’d seen plenty of evidence of that already, but she had to admire the nerve it took to try to stare down a pistol.

_Catra looked down the still-smoking barrel of the masked woman’s pistol. Tears welled in her eyes._

_“Ah, child,” said the woman, her voice as thick and sweet as poison. “I’m not going to kill you. I think I shall take you in, child – my ward Adora could use a playmate. What’s your name?”_

_“C-c-catra.”_

_“Catra. Come with me, Catra. Eventually, you won’t even remember this…”_

Catra didn’t even realise she’d let go of the gun until it clattered against the seat of the jolly-boat.

“Ah, hell,” she muttered. “Adora must have rubbed off on me.” She looked up at Frosta. “Do me a favour while I’m in jail, okay kid? Keep an eye on Adora. I don’t know if I trust this captain of yours to do right by her.”

After a very long pause, Frosta said, “I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

A tired smile spread over Frosta’s features. “You’d need to be going to jail for that to work, and I got here just a little too late to catch you.”

It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. “You’re a good kid, Frosta. Better than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure. I’m serious, though – look after her.”

“I will.” Frosta looked out through the opening, to the distant stars. “Where will you go?”

“I dunno. But…Adora’s found something that’s _hers_. I hate to admit it…but this is where she needs to be.” Catra’s hair streamed in the solar wind as the jolly-boat descended. “I wanna find something that’s like that for me.”

“Stay out of trouble, Catra.”

Catra flashed her a crooked smile and said, “You know I’m not going to.”

Frosta watched as the boat disappeared into the distant sky.

* * *

Time passed.

They’d managed to get together what money they could and book transport to the naval complex on Brightmoon (the _Sword_ was going to be in drydock for months, and repairs had drained most of their funds). Adora and Glimmer had spent most of the trip together, getting to know each other – at least, that was what Frosta assumed was happening, since they started blushing any time Bow or Frosta got too close to them. They’d handed the captured pirates over for trial and imprisonment; unfortunately, some bureaucratic quirk meant that they needed to get the reward money right from the source.

Frosta gasped as the ship emerged from behind a planet and she saw Brightmoon ahead of the bow. She recognised it instantly – the world with many moons she’d seen through the sky door.

“Moon,” said Imp quietly. The goblin had spent most of the trip curled up, clinging to Frosta’s back or sitting on a railing watching her. Frosta still wasn’t sure how smart it was, but it obviously understood that it was never going to see its master again, and now it refused to let its new mistress out of its sight for even a moment.

“In hindsight,” said Glimmer, “I should probably have told you to pick this one. It would’ve been cheaper.”

“There’s more to life than money,” said Bow from behind them.

“Yeah, but…” She threw up her hands. “Okay, fine. Thankyou for saving our lives, Frosta.”

“You’re welcome,” said Frosta primly, and Adora doubled over with laughter.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” Glimmer looked ahead to the moon-ringed world. “Some of those pirates had big rewards for them, and we’ve still got a bit from the treasure we had; when we get these chits paid off, we should be pretty okay.”

Bow coughed. “Put any thought into what you’re going to spend it on?”

“Adora and I have been talking about that, yeah.” She looked to the ex-pirate and smiled; Adora wore a similar expression. “We can probably afford a small ship if we take out a loan. I’ve been planetside too long; I want to get back to sailing.” With a gesture at the approaching world, she added, “I’m _from_ Brightmoon, but space has always been my home. How about you?”

Bow’s eyes darted towards the deck. “I was planning to spend whatever I got on rebuilding. Put the Admiral Seahawk back together, go back to settling down like before the map. And then we went on this little adventure. It was hard, and it was scary, but it was also…like it used to be. Before the war. Almost fun, sometimes.” A smile appeared on his face. “If you want to get a ship and crew together, I’m in – if Frosta wants to go, anyway.”

“Of course!” said Frosta. “Uh. As long as you get a better crew this time.”

Glimmer stifled a laugh. “I’m not sure how we’d get a worse one.”

“Hey!”

“Present company excepted, of course, Adora.”

“Moons!”

“And you too, Imp,” Glimmer said with a sigh. “Anyone else want to complain?”

A door closed behind them, and Bow said, “Looking good, Micah!” A teasing note creeping into his voice, he added, “Glimmer, you never said your dad was this handsome-” before any further commentary was cut off by Glimmer’s elbow digging into his ribs.

The castaway’s transformation was nothing short of astonishing. He’d finally managed to get his hair and beard under control, cleaned himself thoroughly with actual soap, and pulled on a shirt for probably the first time in a decade. He looked like someone who could believably be an admiral’s husband, rather than a feral outcast in the woods.

Micah looked down at himself. “Do you think she’ll…”

“She’s gonna be amazed.” Glimmer’s breath caught as she added, “She never looked for anyone else.”

* * *

Admiral Angella was tall. Even seated behind her desk, which was piled high with paperwork, she was obviously taller than almost everyone Frosta knew. She definitely had the same eyes as the captain, though.

She looked up, and a tired smile flashed onto her face. “Glimmer. And Bow; it’s good to see you, young man. You were a great loss to the service. But who are these?”

“Mom, this is Frosta; Glacia’s daughter. And this is Adora, she’s…” Glimmer began to blush. “She was very helpful on the trip,” she finished, her tone clearly attempting to convey that it was entirely a work relationship so stop asking.

“I’ll bet she was,” said Angella, her own tone conveying rather more effectively that she didn’t believe Glimmer for a minute but wasn’t going to pry. “And Frosta. Allow me to say, on behalf of the Navy, that we’re sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Angella turned back to Glimmer. “I believe you were here for the rewards on some pirates? Glimmer, what have you been up to?”

“It’s a long story.” Glimmer carefully placed the bundle of payment chits on Angella’s desk. “We found out how Horde Prime kept avoiding Navy patrols, too.”

“Oh?” Angella’s eyebrow shot upwards. “And how was that?”

“He got his hands on some old First One technology. It’s been destroyed now, unfortunately.”

“That is a pity.” Angella fiddled with some controls behind the pile of paperwork. “All right, the payment’s been set up. And Glimmer…”

“Yes?”

“Your aunt has been trying to find you for months now. Could you please check in with her next time you’re near Mystacor? You know how she can get when she’s feeling persistent.”

“Will do.” Then a warm, genuine smile appeared on Glimmer’s face, and she said, “Oh, and there was one other person we picked up. I really think you’d like to meet him.” The captain turned to the door and called, “Why don’t you come in?”

Frosta had seen Micah’s transformation over the trip. So, since she knew what Micah looked like, she watched Angella.

The admiral’s jaw actually dropped, and tears glistened in her eyes. Her voice was hushed as she said, “How-”

“It’s really me, Angie,” said Micah, his voice just as hushed. “I missed you.”

As they came together, two decades of separation and pain falling away in moments, Bow tapped Frosta on the shoulder and gestured out the door.

As they left, they heard Angella telling someone to cancel all her appointments. Nothing like practicalities to spoil a golden moment.

* * *

“You can take off your blindfolds now.”

Frosta pulled hers off at Glimmer’s words. A grin spread over her face as she beheld the new-built ship, gleaming behind Adora and Glimmer – a fast-looking ship, its sails flying an insignia of a moon with a crossed sword and arrow.

“I think they gave me preferential treatment,” said Glimmer dismissively. “Get in the good graces of the Admiral’s family, you know.”

Family.

For the first time in a while, there wasn’t much pain. She still missed her mom and dad – obviously – but there was more to her family than just Mom and Dad. There was Bow, and Glimmer, and Adora…and, honestly, probably Catra, assuming they ever met again.

And now there was a home, too – not a back room at a failing inn, but a shining beacon of future adventures.

“What’s her name?” said Frosta.

Adora and Glimmer looked at each other, and Adora said, “We went with _Swift Wind_.”

“Swift,” said Imp, from his position on Frosta’s back.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain Glimmer?” asked Frosta, grinning.

“Permission granted. And bring Crewman Imp with you; every ship needs a mascot.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Frosta’s first step on the deck felt like destiny. It felt like this was where she was _supposed_ to be.

“I know that look,” said Glimmer. “You like her, I trust.” She patted the railing.

“She’s perfect.”

“I know.” But Glimmer wasn’t looking at the ship. Frosta rolled her eyes; could grownups _ever_ keep their eyes on the prize?

“Where to first, captain?”

“We’re taking on supplies and crew at the docks; besides, my m- my _parents_ wanted to say goodbye.” There was still a little bit of awe in how Glimmer said the word “parents”. “Then we’ve got a cargo bound for Mystacor; it wasn’t the best option, but I do need to check in with my Aunt Casta. Then…” She shrugged. “Then, I guess we’ll see where we go. But right now, you should go below decks and put your pack away. But don’t be too long – we’re casting off soon.” She handed Frosta a two-lune coin. “And we’ll need you to throw this one over the side for good luck.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Frosta, and headed for the cabins.

A ship. A crew. Two new sort-of moms, a sort-of dad, a pet, a sort-of big sister who she kind of knew she’d see again _eventually_ …and an adventure.

That first coin she’d dropped for luck had definitely worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed this!
> 
> I'm hoping to get a new chapter of Starways done before the new season drops, but honestly with my writing speed and a few busy days coming up who knows? (It is going to keep going, though. Even in the event that S5 pulls a Voltron, I have a bunch of cool ideas I want to actually get to, so I plan to just grit my teeth and plough ahead!)


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